


The Lie of the Light

by hblake44



Series: Fairies, Elves, and Vampires [2]
Category: K-pop, LOONA (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Elves, F/F, Historical Fantasy, Inaccurate, Inspired by loonaverse, LOONA ensemble - Freeform, Romance, Slow Burn, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:20:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 40
Words: 267,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24457327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hblake44/pseuds/hblake44
Summary: When the moon's light left her, Olivia was sent into exile. When the light shone on Vivi, she was forced to leave her home and join the people of the moon. Now the light shifts, shining onto twelve people, two of them outsiders. The others still struggle with past mistakes and grudges. All while a new threat approaches from the future.
Relationships: Ha Sooyoung | Yves/Kim Jiwoo | Chuu, Jeon Heejin/Kim Hyunjin, Jo Haseul/Viian Wong | ViVi, Jung Jinsol | Jinsoul/Kim Jungeun | Kim Lip, Park Chaewon | Go Won/Son Hyejoo | Olivia Hye, Slight Yeojin/Choerry
Series: Fairies, Elves, and Vampires [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1954555
Comments: 108
Kudos: 155





	1. Running

Vivi was running. This wasn’t how it was supposed to have been. Spirits shouldn't have been chasing her. Three of them at that. And one of them was silvery white. _That_ should'be been impossible. Those types were the good kind. 

She called upon the stone in the ground. With a harsh crack, it broke through the earth. She glanced back to see that the spirits couldn’t pass through it. They would go around it. This had bought her a few moments. 

She used them to veer off in the direction she actually had to go. Perhaps those on patrol would help her. 

_Or they’ll leave me here to die_ , Vivi thought. That wasn’t unlikely. Less problems that way. 

She looked back to see that the white fox was getting very close. Vivi pulled on the rock, forced it into the ground again and brought it to her. That might snag on a few roots, but the trees wouldn’t get too damaged from it. 

Vivi made the rock rise from the soil and curl around the spirit. Amazingly, it worked. Was that her new magic? 

Then she tripped on a gnarled root on the ground. Her face scraped against the trunk it belonged to. 

Then something bit down on her ankle. She screamed and kicked out. The panther didn’t move. 

She brought out a stone blade and aimed for its head. It passed right through. 

_Of all the times for the new magic to fail_. She scrambled away as fast as she could. It didn’t let go. Cold shot up her leg. Then the third spirit came. It lunged, aiming for her neck. She thrust out her hands.

The deer whined when she touched it. It transformed from dark red to pale pink. Then it began to attack the panther. 

Vivi caught sight of her hands. Her skin was glowing. She thrust them towards the panther. It snarled. The places where she touched it turned light green, but the beast did not stop digging its teeth into her leg. Somehow, that pain didn't come, but she didn’t dwell on the wound. 

Instead, she grabbed it and yanked it away from her ankle. A revolting sound filled her ears. From the leg, not the animal. She felt the pain then and shrieked. 

The panther was on its feet, but at a distance. More of it was a pale green, but still only in the form of her hands. 

Vivi glanced at them then. Her skin didn’t glow as brightly as it had before. 

The deer beside her had bowed its head, but did not attack. Would it wait until she attacked? She could handle pain, but a ruined leg could only do so much. She definitely wouldn’t be able to run. For a first true encounter with evil spirits, this was likely not the best. 

The space around her brightened. 

“Get down!” a light voice shouted. The air grew hot then. 

Vivi did. She reached out for the deer as well, pulling it close to her. It warmed the chill that’d settled over her body. She’d barely noticed that, but she did now. Just as she was well aware of the pain that was her leg. 

Flames passed over her head. They struck the panther. It shrieked, a sound Vivi had only ever heard from prey when it’d been caught by its hunter. 

A figure leaped over her, a shining blade in their hand. They threw it at the spirit. Vivi watched as it sank into the creature’s side. The panther froze, despite still being on fire. 

Then the flames disappeared, leaving only the blade. That began to dissolve. Pale green spread all across the panther. The transformation was complete when its eyes turned from grey to yellow. It lay down on the forest floor. 

The one who’d landed the final blow turned to look at her. She had pale gold hair and very peculiar eyes. One was blue, the other pure white. Her skin glowed far brighter then Vivi’s did, even when she’d lost control of it. 

She knelt down in front of her, pulling out a waterskin in the same moment. It was a crude-looking thing, but it didn’t seem to leak. “Got you good.” Her voice was a lot deeper than the first one Vivi had heard. 

She looked around then, seeing another pale-haired girl by the fox. It was still encased in stone. 

“This isn’t normal,” the one closest to her said. “Them taking a bite out of you. The attacking part is.”

“And that?” Vivi nodded to the deer. “I thought light meant they’d never attack.” 

The girl’s expression shuttered. “It shouldn’t,” she nodded, “but that doesn’t change the fact that it attacked.” Slowly, the light faded from her left eye. It turned the blue of the other.

Then she started carving something into the ground beside Vivi’s mangled ankle. She did it while pouring water over the wound, washing it out. It stung, but somehow soothed. There was something else in that water. 

“Is it because,” Vivi trailed off, “because I’m not like you?” Of course they could sense she wasn’t like the rest. That she wasn't a full-blooded elf. She likely only had half the connection they did to the moonlight.

“No,” the other girl had come, “three attacked, because you were alone.” The light also faded from her left eye. Both her eyes were now a glistening red. “And they sensed that you're not fully connected to the moon” she sighed, “but they've been getting stronger anyway. We don’t know why.” 

“I’m Jinsoul,” the blue-eyed girl said. “She’s Jungeun. We were supposed to be the ones to greet you.” Her brow furrowed. “Tomorrow.” 

“I was running here anyway.” Vivi didn't explain why. 

The elf looked like she wanted to ask more, but then the red-eyed one—Jungeun—tapped her arm. Jinsoul continued with her work on the ground. Vivi saw now that she was drawing a symbol. 

“You use sigils as well?” Vivi asked. 

“We don’t,” Jungeun said. “But she does.” She seemed proud, but that left her eyes quickly. “The deer,” she began, looking at it, “did you know you’d be able to change it?”

Vivi saw that it was no longer struggling. “No.” For the past hours, she’d acted on instinct. 

“Don’t worry,” she smiled then, “you’ll have four possible teachers for it.” 

Jinsoul gently moved Vivi’s ankle to the carved soil. She completed the sigil, which made Vivi's leg warm. Water flowed from the skin of its own accord, wrapping itself around her ruined skin. It became firm without freezing. It remained warm. The water shone in places it shouldn’t have.

That was impossible. The lunar elves didn’t control water, nor could they fire. 

“It'll be a lot to take in,” Jinsoul squeezed her arm, “but unlike the rest, we have a small idea of what you’re going through.” 

The mismatched eyes, their elemental magic, and the sigils. 

“You were also tied to the moon later.” 

“Later, destined for it, something," Jungeun waved a hand, “but it was definitely a surprise.” 

Together, the two elves pulled her to her feet. The deer had remained at her side. 

“Does that usually happen?” Vivi pointed at it. The spirit had strangely inquisitive eyes. Spirits were supposed to be sentient. They could only wander around or attack. Then again, Vivi had seen that spirits weren’t acting as they were _supposed_ to anyway, so it didn't exactly matter. 

“Sometimes,” Jinsoul said. “Some think they have a drive to protect, others just think it’s a reflexive act to attack whatever’s still opposed to it.” 

“And you?” 

Jinsoul shrugged. “Would you abandon the person who helped you? If they were still in danger?”

“I hope I wouldn’t.” 

Jinsoul’s brow rose. “Why say that?” She exchanged a look with Jungeun. 

“One doesn't know their limits until they're tested.” Vivi thought of her departure, of the eagerness to see her gone. No, no one knew what they were capable of until forced to act. 

Jungeun hummed. “Got that right.” Her eyes darkened. 

They paused by the fox. Up close, Vivi saw that the animal had a surprisingly angry look to it. She also that the stone surrounding it was glowing. 

“So that’s moonlight?” Vivi asked. “In the rock?”

“Basically,” Jungeun replied. “It restrains these types, but doesn’t seem to do anything other than that.” 

“You can’t turn them,” she hesitated, “normal?” What was normal supposed to be? The elves dealt with spirits, not the fae. That hardly encompassed halflings and yet here she was. 

“Not yet,” she sighed, “the best we can do is force them to flee. Overpowering it like you did does do the trick.”

“But we’ll get to a safe distance first,” Jinsoul said. “Do you have a lot of range?”

Vivi only nodded. She didn’t need to explain that to them now. Would she ever? Did they care?

“Good.”

They started walking. The girls were strong, far more than Vivi was. They essentially carried her without protest. 

“You didn’t tell us who you were,” Jungeun glanced at her, “and don’t go into a long explanation about which clan you’re from and all that. Just a name.” 

“Viian.” The deer, now seemingly content that there was no threat around them, pranced away. It disappeared between the trees. Vivi was sorry to see it go. 

It earned her a smile. “Now you can tell us the clan. If you want.”

“I don’t,” Vivi said. “Perhaps another time.” 

Understanding flashed in her red eyes. 

“Then another time,” Jinsoul said. “Take as long as you need.” She flashed her a gentle smile. “You’re one of us now.” 

Vivi nodded, but a part of her felt heavy. 

_You’ll have four possible teachers for it_. 

That meant these two and another, in an entire group of elves blessed by the moon from birth. She wanted to be hopeful, but there was plenty of reason not to be _one of them_. Perhaps this girl meant what she said, but Vivi had also, as they’d said, been chosen later. What would that mean to the elves? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Astra are elves who were born with a connection to the moonlight. Except for OEC girls and Vivi, the girls are Astra.  
> ______
> 
> As for the time period, it's set about two hundred years before our present, but historical accuracy will not be the full priority here. 


	2. Stealing

Stealing from the humans was easy. She barely distinguished between the ones she'd already taken from. No matter what country they were from rich mortals blended together in Olivia's mind. She'd not bothered with learning the differences, the names of the countries, or any of their languages. None of it mattered. 

The only difference was the scent of food that wafted through the halls. Almost each house made her hungry, but she wasn’t supposed to sneak into the kitchens. No. She was supposed to get into the library, then the office. 

Already she’d raised the library, getting the logs they'd asked her to. Now she crept down the hall, clinging to the shadows where she could. It was almost funny how the very thing that had ruined her life was what helped her now. A more optimistic part of her would say the darkness had made her current life more bearable. 

She reached the right door. It opened easily, its hinges regularly oiled. Another luxury these mortals thought benefited them. It helped thieves more than anything. Olivia knew well how difficult it was to sneak into a shack without carpets or stone floors. 

She slipped into the study, searching for any disruptions to the shadows. Spirits almost never came into the presence of mortals. Why, she didn’t know. But with her being there, they’d be drawn to her. It wouldn’t matter if they were dark or light. 

Getting what she was sent in for was too easy. There were drunkards all across the building instead of actual guards. It had been too long since anyone had broken into the nobleman’s mansion. The guards on the perimeter still did their jobs well, but those inside were only there in the case of the worst of encounters. Olivia was confident she wasn’t that. Not this time. 

She tucked in the papers, folding them carefully beforehand. Then she slipped the key from the ring. She never needed to use one, but the people who'd sent her did. If she wasn't braking a door down, she could recreate the write key with the darkness. 

The people who’d sent her didn’t need to know that. The effort alone gave her a fair amount of money. The key itself even more. 

She did a once-over of the study. On the far end was a long bookshelf that rose to the ceiling. So much information for so little time. Olivia had barely had a page to her name before. Now the humans had information about her too. They were only brief sightings and primarily based on rumour, but they all talked about her. 

She shook the thoughts from her head and opened the other drawers of the desk. There were no stray coins. Of course not. With how neatly it was kept, there was probably a log on how many pieces of silver and gold were owned. Were they counted every week?

And if she took something, maybe the staff would be accused of thievery. Already, the theft of the keys and information stored in paper would raise enough suspicion. She wouldn’t make it worse for them. They were paid little enough already, and losing a job like that was hard for humans. If she lost a job, she only needed to go to the next town or region. 

Olivia went to the window. There were guards all across the grounds. Had this been a job that needed to attract attention, she would’ve needed to fight them. She was glad this was one that _needed_ secrecy. 

She placed a hand on the outside wall, letting shadows bloom beneath her fingers. They coalesced into two handholds. Olivia climbed out of the window, closing it as best she could. She scaled the building, thankful for both the night and her abilities. Was it ironic? Probably. 

She reached the top and sat down. 

The moon was only a thin crescent tonight. She liked it better that way. She liked it even more when it wasn’t there at all. When she saw it, she always felt exposed. On those days, it almost felt as if the pale orb in the sky was mocking her. Those were the days when the last years caught up with her properly, ones where she was exhausted, or both. 

She let the night wash over her in that moment. She’d been tense getting past the guards, wanting nothing more than to avoid a confrontation. Fights were simple, yes, but they’d become too easy. It was almost effortless for her to ram her elbow into someone’s face. She barely hesitated to break a bone. 

Then again, she also didn’t hesitate to take what she needed (sometimes what she wanted) from the places she visited. 

Olivia sighed. Thinking wouldn’t help her off this roof. She needed to find the right place for it. She crept to the other side, finding the lamps of a permanent guard post on the ground below. She fought another sigh. 

She found a spot between two groups who’d decided they could have a chat. At least while all six of them kept an eye on the perimeter. She’d use the shadows of the smaller wall, set off a distraction, and then get away. 

She was about to start her descent when she felt a small wave of sickness. Then there was a shout of alarm. 

Olivia cursed and turned around. The spirits had gone straight to the guard post. These were the worser of the spirits. They were bright, but aggressive. Mortals and elves alike didn’t expect an attack from bright spirits until it was too late. 

Olivia always expected it. Bright spirits, no matter if good or bad, almost always attacked her. 

She ran for the edge. She summoned two daggers as she did. 

When she got to the edge, she saw a light green wolf circling a man on the floor. He gripped a glowing hand, his eyes wide with terror and pain. He let out a strained whine each time it came closer. A white hound had backed four guards right by the house they usually stayed in. They had drawn their swords, but didn’t look like knew what to do. 

The other guards who’d come had stopped in their tracks. Their minds wouldn’t know what to make of it. To them, spirits were just from superstition. Be out too late, you’ll attract bad spirits. Betray someone, you may be cursed and turned into an evil spirit. It went on. Useless information.

Olivia threw both her blades, first at the wolf, then at the hound. Both struck their flanks. As the daggers melted into the spirits, their skin turned dark green and grey respectively. 

Both spirits let out harsh howls. The wolf made to complete its attack on the one guard. 

Olivia leapt down from the roof, tackling it to the ground of cobblestone. It hurt, burning her skin where she touched it. 

She forced a new blade into the side of its head. It let out a whine and stayed on the ground. 

When she straightened, she barely had time to register the hound coming at her. She dodged left, stumbling as she did. She steadied herself. Her left hand was near the shadow of a currently terrified young man. She said a silent apology and took it. 

She barely heard his yelp as she turned to face the spirit. She forced it to form a stake as the hound lunged. She drove it into its mouth, trying not to dwell on the yowl of pain. 

Words were spoken to her. The language of the area. She didn’t know it. 

Olivia only shook her head at whatever he said. Perhaps it was, _what was that? Who are you? What are you? Will there be more?_

If she was lucky, there’d be more talk on surviving this night than there was about being attacked. She wasn't lucky, so they'd speak of a girl who wielded darkness as a weapon, of a girl who was surrounded by cold air, and of the pale spirits she’d turned dark. 

Said spirits were standing idly now, only regarding the guards with curiosity, as if they hadn’t nearly killed them. 

Olivia looked to the one whose hand still glowed. He wasn't touching it, but there were tears running down his face.

She hesitantly held out a hand, pointing at his. 

He looked between her and the glowing hand. Would he deny her help out of fear? Or just stomach that and accept it. 

He then nodded, saying something else she couldn’t understand. Was he speaking to the rest? 

Olivia just took his hand, absorbing the light. It made her hand feel oddly warm and she wanted to retch. The light of these new spirits was corrupted. How, she still didn’t know. All she knew was that she could destroy the light if she absorbed it and that it made her feel sick. 

Some of them murmured, words gentle, perhaps even with a degree of wonder. None of them had run off to alert someone. They were either focused on her or transfixed by the now peaceful spirit. None were attacking her either. It was a good change by that account. 

When all of it was absorbed, there was only the bite mark. She might have been able to heal him, but if giving light to humans was frowned upon, giving them darkness was even worse. 

She nodded at them before turning away. She heard them call something out, maybe _wait_ , but she didn’t stop to listen. She's stay a mystery. She'd become another story. 

The two spirits followed. A dark green wolf and a grey hound. It could’ve made for a lovely mortal painting. She wondered if any of those guards had a creative flare in their mind. She’d always appreciated that about mortals. 

She let the darkness cloak her some more. If they tried to follow, she’d have disappeared for them. Perhaps they’d be able to tell a difference in the air, but that would unsettle them more than anything. 

Olivia sighed. She’d still be getting her pay, but if this particular story reached the wrong ears (and it always seemed to), she’d have to get somewhere else. And if the others heard it, she'd get a scolding. It wouldn’t work. Attracting spirits like this wasn’t anything she could control. They were drawn to immortals, to darkness, and to people who felt negative emotions. They liked anger most of all. 

No, Olivia couldn’t stop spirits from coming to her. Being out in the open, she was a beacon for all spirits. The moon, and its followers, had made sure of that. 


	3. Another?

Hyunjin always fought calmly. She never saw it as a game like some did. She only kept her expression blank and her gaze focused. 

The moment Heejin blocked Hyunjin’s blow, she could only watch as a spark entered the other’s gaze. She'd found an opening. 

The only thought Heejin had then was, _damn._

Hyunjin closed the distance between them, driving her shoulder into Heejin’s chest. It was a weak blow, but she still stumbled, caught off guard by the sudden block. 

The next thing she knew, her back was on the ground and the wind had been knocked out of her. Hyunjin hovered above her. There was the hint of a smile there. 

“You need to work on your balance.” She chuckled. Another thing about Hyunjin. She could be smug about almost anythung except for fighting. The way her eyes glittered now, she was just energised by the fight. 

Heejin frowned at her. “You basically threw me off my feet.” 

“More resistance is needed,” Hyunjin replied. She was still looking down at her with sparkling yellow eyes. 

Heejin found herself growing lost in them. Even though it was getting closer to morning, training always helped keep her energised. Unfortunately, it also meant that she was well aware of how the proximity affected her. And how it didn’t affect Hyunjin. It'd stopped doing that for a long time. 

Then Hyunjin just nodded and got up. She pulled Heejin with her. She did it just as easily as she’d knocked her down. 

“You beat me and we’ll go back for food.” 

Heejin lifted her staff and swung. 

Hyunjin blocked it. 

She tried another. Blocked. She aimed for her legs. Hyunjin jumped, smacking away the next one while she was in the air. 

When she tried again, Heejin summoned another lengthened piece of light and went for Hyunjin’s ribs. She made the hit. 

And then a foot hooked around her ankle. Heejin pushed forward instead, forcing the both of them into the ground. 

Hyunjin’s breath escaped her. “Nice,” she said. “But if I had a knife,” a light pressure at Heejin’s abdomen, “I would've gotten you.” 

“And what about me?” Heejin had her stick against her ribs. “At this point you wouldn’t be able to breathe.” 

She gave her a look. “It’s abou _t surviving_ the fight, not winning it.” Then she rolled them around. A full smile appeared. “But it’ll do if I was even more of an idiot than I am.” She pulled her up again. “Another?” 

They ended up going through four more rounds. Two of them ended with Heejin thinking she’d won before Hyunjin pointed something else out. The other two times Heejin was just about tossed to the ground. 

“We should stop.” Hyunjin absorbed her mock weapons. Her eyes glowed even brighter now. 

Heejin scowled. “I didn’t beat you once.” The shame of that got her more than the growing bruises did. 

She smiled. “I’m hungry.” 

“You wanted food hours ago.” And Heejin couldn’t deny that she'd also gotten _very_ hungry. 

Hyunjin just shrugged. “The wait makes it even better.” She tilted her head to the side, her smile growing. “And you could’ve stopped it at any moment.”

“You said we’d only stop if I got you.”

“I’m not a strict teacher,” she replied. “I let people off easy.”

Heejin gave her a look. “The bruises'll really prove that.”

“Does it hurt?” Hyunjin spoke quietly now. 

She shook her head. Where was this caution coming from? Hyunjin had sent a lot of the rest straight to Nuala. She and Jinsoul were their main healers when ‘intensive training’ started.

The glow of the fires came into view. It was joined by louder chatter. Some had taken to staying up late. There wasn’t the constant paranoia that spies or other search parties were around. They could let their guard down and even treat the day like it was a normal night. 

“If you didn’t give me a real challenge, you’d be doing it wrong,” Heejin said. 

Another shrug was her response. Hyunjin had gotten less talkative recently. At first, Heejin had been able to see her struggle with something, as if she wanted to say something, but continuously held herself back from it. 

“Heejin!” Priad called. The one the light bound her to. “Teveril got a European wine and it’s incredible.” 

She could only smile and wave at them. At him. 

“Good way to end the night,” Hyunjin said, a small smile on her face. Heejin almost thought it looked strained. “Make sure to stretch your back some more before you go to sleep.”

“That’ll help?”

A nod. “You’ve started slouching again. Those muscles have to be kept strong.” 

Heejin frowned. “Since when is walking related to fighting?” 

“It isn’t,” Hyunjin’s smile grew, “but I’ve seen several mortals with _very_ poor postures. Many elves as well.” She chuckled. "Should I send Jungeun on you like she gets after Jinsoul?"

She straightened. To her dismay, she realised that there was actually a long distance for her shoulders to go back. 

Hyunjin nodded in approval, before turning away, going to another fire. 

Heejin didn’t want her to go, but Hyunjin would've hated being with the others. She'd told her she didn't get along with that type of person. The type either blessed with the sight, ones who loved hunts, or people born to be elders in the future. Heejin sometimes wondered how Hyunjin had ever tolerated her in the first place. 

So she turned around and went to join them, accepting a plate and loading it with much-needed food. Heejin took the cup with a smile. It was actually a good one. 

“She really laid into you, didn’t she?” Priad frowned, brushing a hand through her hair. He picked out a leaf. “You sure it’s necessary?”

Heejin nodded. “Puts up a good fight compared to the rest of you.” She gave them a wink. 

Teveril rolled his eyes. “Considering it’s her life, of course she’s better.”

The words felt off to her, but Heejin dismissed it. She focused instead on finally eating something. It was a brisket made extra crispy. The fresh spices the others had brought were a welcome change. 

They talked of the patrols, of how many spirits they’d turned, and of the latest news from the other elves. The Tresa, elves from the coldest points of the earth, were doing a small round of the earth. There was the chance they’d also come to them, bearing both gifts and requests for the coming years. They were usually unpredictable with those visits. Eline and the other seers helped with that, but even they couldn’t always tell when the Tresa were coming. 

In the back of her mind, Heejin added it to her list of examples where the light was fallible. It was a list some would that a lot would condemn her for. No one would stop to think that maybe their beliefs had to be re-examined, no matter how long the list. 

There were some exceptions, but there weren't enough of them. 

"When's the halfling coming?" Teveril knocked back the rest of his glass. He poured another. 

Heejin frowned. "Don't start calling her that." Although a large part of her wished the half-elf wasn't coming, although she wished the light hadn't shone on them as well, she couldn't help but find issue in how easily Teveril dismissed them. 

Beside him, Kolina shrugged. "It's what they are."

"Still can't believe the moon's light extends that far out." Priad shook his head. "What's next? Full fairy, a _human_?"

Some of them chuckled. Heejin didn't join in. These same people had been opposed to Jungeun when she'd arrived, the first of the non-Astra to be chosen by the moon. When Jinsoul came, it'd somehow changed things. Whatever the reason, the elves had begrudgingly accepted them. This acceptance had then extended to Choerry. Still, the three girls and others like them were kept to patrol almost every other day. They were still the ones sent into the human world for trade. Choerry and Jinsoul had been the exception. Jinsoul was a well respected healer for them now, while Choerry was also helping there. Jungeun continued to deal with most threats when they arose. She was the best at that. 

What would happen now? Would people treat the half-elf with even more scrutiny? They'd probably struggle to 'accept this fate' and rationalise what the moon wanted. They'd debate among themselves. Again. 

Heejin remembered a day when they _hadn't_ questioned the moon. When they'd blindly accepted what it wanted of them. And they'd tossed someone away because of it. 

“Tired?” Priad asked. 

“A bit.” Heejin tried for another smile. He'd probably sensed some of her irritation. Not enough. 

The smile worked. “You know it’s alright to take it easy,” he said. “Skip a session or two with the girl. She’s not Yuol.” The elder who’d taught most of them once they’d come of age. He didn’t do anything before or after then, but the tests he set were necessary to leave training behind. And he was relentless with his criticisms, but never gave lessons after that. 

“No,” Heejin agreed. “But she’s the next best thing.” She hoped her tone showed that she wanted to drop the topic. 

It didn’t. 

His brow furrowed. “She’s not the only one with experience. Father’s even offered to help.”

She shook her head. Priad’s father would never lay a hand on her. She wasn’t sure Priad would let him either. “I don’t need a change.” 

“You’re always in pain after you’ve worked with her.”

She raised a brow. “It’s a challenge.” 

“One you don’t need.”

She fought the urge to roll her eyes. “It’s good to have.” Now she finished her food and poured a bit more of the wine into her cup. “I’ll be off.” She gave Teveril a small wave. “Thanks for the wine.”

He raised his cup in response. How many refills he’d had, Heejin wasn’t sure. 

There was a small chorus of goodnights and she knew Priad would want to come with her. She left before he could make to get up. 

A part of her knew that she was being unfair. The other part reassured her that it didn’t matter. Even if there was a bond between them, it hadnt done much else than simply exist. She'd felt nothing the day she’d learned of it, nor did she feel anything when he was near. Something had changed that day, but thinking of it was painful. 

Heejin's feet took her to the other campfire. Someone sat there alone. Her eyes were closed and she chewed on something, seemingly savouring each bite. 

Heejin stood there, debating whether or not to disturb the peace. They hadn't eaten together for a few weeks, maybe even longer. Hyunjin was always off doing something, or Heejin was called to be with another group. 

She walked over over. 

“Care for a sip of wine?” Heejin asked. 

Hyunjin’s eyes opened. With the fire, they looked more orange than yellow. “Wine?” 

Heejin raised her cup. “The good European kind.” She pushed it into her free hand. 

The other girl looked at it, but didn’t drink. 

Heejin sat down. “Don’t tell me you need a sharp mind to sleep.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Hyunjin chuckled, “but I do need one when guarding.” She handed the cup back to Heejin. 

“Guarding?”

“Short one today,” she replied. 

Heejin couldn’t help but frown. “You were already on patrol.”

Hyunjin took a bite of her own food. On her plate was a crumpled breadroll beside her brisket. “Kolina said she was worried about witches. And tonight, Eline expects a stray vampire or malevolent spirit to find its way to us. With the newcomer, I'm betting on the spirit being the threat."

A few of the elves could gather information about the future. Most were distrustful of it. At least until the information became useful: who one was destined to be with, who was a threat, who was in danger, all of it was considered vital to know. 

"You're also going to be part of the escort?" Heejin asked. “And you’re warding off witches?” Close-quarters combat wasn’t much help against spells. 

“Jungeun and Chuu will be joining with the witches," Hyunjin shrugged, “and then Jinsoul and Jungeun'll be there to get the newcomer.” She had another bite, seemingly indifferent. "And I'd like to meet them before all becomes even more confusing." 

Heejin was about to say more about the guarding part, but she realised it’d be pointless. 

A smile appeared on Hyunjin’s face. “Well done today.” 

“You’re just trying to inflate my ego.”

She shook her head. “Not just that. I mean it.”

Heejin frowned again. “I lost each time.” Just thinking the day over made her face flush, both with embarrassment and frustration. 

Hyunjin chuckled. “Really?”

“You told me all the ways I didn’t.” She tried to keep the frustration from her voice. 

“And you believed it,” Hyunjin tilted her head to the side, “I’m flattered, but you put too much faith in my words.” Her smile seemed to grow with each word. "But remember we're blessed with immortality. You'd have survived a lot of those wounds." 

Heejin frowned at her. “You were lying to me?”

She waggled her eyebrows. “Leaving out details.” 

“Like?”

“Your form was good,” Hyunjin said. “You’re strong, stronger than most of the people here and you beat me a few times today.”

Heejin’s face burned from the praise. She hoped she just looked bewildered instead of flustered. 

“So why’d you tell me I lost?” She didn’t even mind that. Not when it meant she could learn from her mistakes after actually finding out _what_ she was doing wrong instead of getting vague suggestions. Hyunjin was rarely vague. She just taught her by making her eat dirt and leaves. 

Hyunjin grinned. “I wanted you to try again.” 

Strangely enough, Heejin didn’t mind that either. She’d have the worst ache by tonight, but today had been worth it. She'd seen Hyunjin smile and laugh more than she had in a while. 

“You needed me to do that eight times?” Heejin asked. 

“It was more than that.” Hyunjin tore the last of the bread roll in half. “At least twelve.” She popped it in her mouth. 

She swatted her arm. “And when we stopped?” 

“I told you the truth there.” Hyunjin finished the bread, or whatever that specific type was supposed to be called. “I was really hungry.” She took a plum from the bowl at the base of the fire. She began to eat that as well. She still hadn’t finished the meat. 

Heejin leaned back. She couldn’t help but smile. Hyunjin tended to do things in a strangely specific way, while also being completely focused on what she did. Usually it was with a task, such as training her to fight or doing some other duty in the camp. Hyunjin would take it seriously, no matter what was going on in her head or around her. She’d hardly pay mind to the passage of time, and she wouldn’t cave to someone’s ego, especially not Heejin’s. And she’d still do something like what she’d done today. 

Then there were moments like these where she’d relax fully. Her particular way of doing things still showed through, but it was with her food. 

Heejin loved both sides of her to no end, but she could only think of them together. She’d come to adore the person they combined to make. 

Hyunjin looked up then, as though startled. 

“Something wrong?” Heejin asked. 

Yellow eyes lingered on her face for a moment. 

“Nothing,” Hyunjin shook her head, “thought there was something strange.” There was a tug at the corner of her mouth. “But it was just you.” 

Heejin rolled her eyes, while a low laugh sounded from the other. She tried not to dwell on how happy it made her to hear it. 

Then there was a shout. Heejin vaguely heard the words, _she's here_ _!_

Already? Immediately, her mood soured. It was the next person chosen by the moon. The one her people were already prepared to accept, despite murmuring consistantly about the 'outsider', despite expressing their rejection of the half-elf. They'd agree to accept her. All because the moon had chosen her. 

And they'd abandoned one of their own. Because the moon _hadn't_ chosen Hyejoo, or—as they now had to call her—Olivia. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first two chapters were my equivalent of setup, where we see the current states of the two 'main' characters. Before more storylines combine, I wanted to give a little bit of insight into some other characters, specifically Hyunjin and Heejin. 
> 
> I hope you're enjoying the story so far! I'm really happy to be able to share this. It's been in my mind for a while now. Would love to know your thoughts so far.
> 
> Hope you're doing well and I'll see you in the next chapter!


	4. Outsider

The welcoming was cold, to say the least. It was also freezing in the camp. Everyone glowed in the camp, the light likely only used to warm their limbs. Vivi didn’t know how to control that yet. Already, she was ready to find some place warm to sit. There were plenty of fires all around. Her leg still hurt and she leaned on the other as best she could. She fought the urge to sit down.

They were all around her, watching her with intent gazes. Some looked distrustful, but a few were surprisingly welcoming. 

“Viian, father an elf with magic of earth, mother a fairy with a hold over the air,” the elder said. Freya. Her voice was warm, but her gaze was just as cold as the air. Vivi had met vampires kinder than that. She was an elder with eyes of a solid gold. Her skin was pure white, almost blindingly so. “What did that leave you with?”

Vivi fought the urge to correct how vague ‘hold over the air’ was and tell her of the many complexities there were. 

“Stone.” With her accent, she’d probably sound as if she only spoke a fraction of what she did. Her _crosesh_ wasn’t great, but she understood almost everything. Until several people talked at once or had accents like these elves did. Her head started to hurt when she tried to distinguish between all of them. 

The elves around her exchanged glances. They’d gathered in a large circle. Vivi felt as if she was on display. If they wanted to make her feel uncomfortable, it was very effective. 

“And the moon has chosen you, giving you the gift of light,” another elder said. They called her Eline. When she looked at Vivi, it seemed she was looking through her. “So we welcome you as one of the Astra.” Only then did she meet her eyes. 

Vivi doubted that they truly welcomed her. She'd met a fair amount of eyes that looked at her with outrage, others with disbelief. She wasn’t the first halfling in the world, but she was the first to have gotten the light of the moon. It seemed to be a miracle to some and an ugly joke to others. Vivi had already decided that this wasn't a gift. 

“Your role has already been decided,” Freya continued. “The protection of the humans falls to you and those you join. It is a noble cause.”

Protection of those who’d die before Vivi would ever get close to calling this place a home? Definitely noble. 

“But we still need someone to teach you, as light is nothing like stone," another elder said. Lyriil. "Rather than heavy, it is gentle. Rather than destruction, it will bring something of value.” 

Vivi whipped her head to look at him, trying not to show him just _how_ destructive stone could be. It would only prove his point. 

Lyriil's brow rose. He knew Vivi wouldn’t defend herself. “So I ask the rest of you for volunteers.” His voice rose. Somehow, he glowed even brighter. Vivi kept her eyes on his, even though it was starting to strain her. “Who will teach the newest addition the ways of the light and a respect for the moon?” 

_A lump of rock far far away_ , Vivi thought. She wouldn’t dare say it aloud. These elves _worshipped_ the pale orb in the sky just as Vivi held the stars in high regard, higher than the moon. Another thing she wouldn’t say. The stars weren’t made of stone. The moon was. If Vivi was stronger than she was, there was the chance she could summon a lump of that rock. What would these elves say then?

The elves exchanged glances again, murmuring as they did. Vivi was glad that she’d learned a few of the elven languages, specifically _crosa_. They had a strange accent, one that sounded as though a song could be found just below the words. She didn’t like it. It made dismissive words sound friendly and words of hate sound so similar to that of love. 

And now, they were discussing their current duties, as well as 'the halfling'. It didn't help in making her feel at home. 

No one raised a hand or stepped forward. It looked like they were waiting for someone to volunteer first. Vivi fought a sigh. 

“I will,” a higher voice said. The words reached over the whispers and mutters, falling into Vivi’s ear immediately. Strange. 

Her eyes were drawn to a cluster of people. They cleared for the speaker, some looking confused, while others looked at them with something close to distaste. Each of them watched the person with some sort of begrudging respect. Very strange. 

Some might have said she had eyes like emeralds, but Vivi thought them like the sea beneath the sun. She had dark hair cut just above her shoulders. 

“Are you certain?” Freya asked. Her expression neared distaste as well. Who was this girl to the elves? A leader? Or a particularly difficult person to handle?

“Naturally.” Her gaze was like that of a hawk: challenging and perhaps predatory. Definitely searching. 

No one objected. They only stared at her. 

Vivi looked for Jungeun and Jinsoul. They had smiles on their faces. That was at least reassuring. She hoped so at least. They hadn't stepped forward, but she was quite sure that was because they weren't fully Astra. Did they even have the authority for that sort of a thing? 

There was also a girl beside the two, one who glowed as they did, but not like the Astra. She had brown hair and purple eyes. She met Vivi’s eyes and winked. 

Vivi had to smile back. 

“Very well,” Freya pursed her lips, “if no one else will speak up?” Her eyes fell somewhere else. Vivi didn’t know who she looked at in the vast crowd. “Then we're finished. Haseul will tell you what else you must know.” Her eyes went back to the green-eyed elf. Not Vivi. 

_You must know_. The wording rubbed her the wrong way. So did the tone. 

The elves dispersed very quickly, leaving eight. One of them had taken Haseul aside, while the others looked on with varying degrees of surprise. She was whispering something to her. The girl sounded angry. It was also too quick for Vivi to understand fully, but she could interpret some of it. 

_What were you thinking?_

_Fool._

_Trap._

_Outsider._

Haseul only shook her head. “She’s here now,” she whispered, but Vivi could hear it perfectly. “So accept it.” 

The girl looked livid. She had pink eyes as well, but they were more vibrant than Vivi’s. 

Then those eyes met hers and the anger was directed at her. It gave Vivi a painful warmth. Was that another way moonlight worked?

“You’ll get no help from me.” Then she was gone. 

A yellow-eyed girl watched after her, shock evident on her face. Disappointment was coming in as well. 

“Viian,” Haseul nodded at her, “I’m sorry you’ve had to have one of the worst greetings I’ve ever seen.” Her expression no longer looked threatening. Just tired. So she'd put up a front. One of strength and something close to indifference. 

“It definitely reminded me of mine.” Jinsoul gave her a small smile. “But she couldn’t exactly tell me that water destroys since,” she patted the waterskin at her waist, “it’s too good to criticise.” 

“She lays into fire a lot,” Jungeun chuckled, “had Nuala give me several lectures on how terrible burn wounds were.” She rolled her eyes. “Very enlightening.”

Vivi caught Jinsoul's eyes flicker to Jungeun then. It was as if she wanted to protest, but had immediately held back. 

“Are you allowed to speak like that?” Vivi glanced to where the elders had gone. They were on the far side of camp, but there were others who could pass on the words they spoke now. They all had the ears for it. 

Haseul snorted. “They’re not like mortal rulers who’ll rip your limbs from you for disrespect.” 

“Or else _she’d_ have lost everything by now.” The one with yellow eyes laughed. 

“That,” Haseul conceded, “and there’s some sort of deep-rooted respect we have for anyone tied to the moon.” Her gaze softened further. “Even if they take a while to remember that.” 

“I have to go,” Jungeun said. “I’m one of the leads for the protection of the humans,” she winked, “but that essentially includes the patrol of our home.” 

_Our home._ A collection of tents, the occasional stone structure, and many fire pits scattered all throughout. The place they were in now was both a clearing and next to some sort of amphitheatre. The ground had been carved away with surprising care and precision. It made for seats, as well as another flatter part further down. Vivi was glad they hadn’t been there—where she would’ve _really_ been on display. 

“I’ll be finished with Nuala in an hour,” Jinsoul frowned, “then I’ll change over and join you.” 

The red-eyed elf only shook her head. “New moon today. You’ll be spent by then.” Then she was off. 

Jinsoul watched after her, confusion and concern in her eyes. Vivi had no way of knowing if this was normal. Were those two just lumped together because they weren't Astra? Had something happened in the past? 

The purple-eyed girl looked up at Jinsoul. “I can follow her.” 

“She’ll expect that,” Jinsoul shook her head, “and won’t let you come far.”

Vivi looked at Haseul then who mouthed, ‘I’ll explain later’. 

Purple-eyes then smiled brightly at Vivi, but there was still some concern leftover. “I’m Choerry.” She bowed her head once. “Technically it’s Yerim, but we don’t consider names that important.” There was a sudden edge of anger to the otherwise cheerful-looking girl.

“Yeojin,” the orange-eyed girl said. She had a surprisingly deep voice. “We have to get to Iaran.” She smiled apologetically at Vivi. “Hunting training.” Her words dripped with feigned enthusiasm. Vivi found herself already taking a liking to her. 

The two left. 

“If we’re doing introductions,” the yellow-eyed girl stepped over, “I'm Hyunjin. The one who was just here is Heejin.” Her eyes flicked to where the girl had gone. She looked disappointed now. Was disdain not typical for this Heejin? She seemed to wear it easily. “When it comes to the initial learning, I’m not much help,” she said. “But once we pass the construction phase, I’ll be there to help with the rest as well.” 

“The rest?” Vivi repeated. Just how much was there supposed to be?

“Combat training, focused on using moonlight, and some other things.” She smiled. “You’ll see.” Then she gave a small wave before going in the direction Heejin had gone. 

That left Vivi with Haseul and Jinsoul. 

“Hopefully she’ll figure out what’s wrong with her,” Jinsoul crossed her arms, “or I’ll do it myself.” 

That was something to remember. This Heejin wasn’t normally like this. Then again, ‘normally’ didn’t include having a halfling be considered a part of your happy family. Maybe she’d had a poor encounter with fairies. Most of Vivi’s own people had hated elves as a result of the conflicts they’d had. That hatred faded over time. It had a variety of reasons. Maybe Heejin had something like that in her past. 

Then, with a warm smile sent Vivi’s way, Jinsoul went off to whoever Nuala was supposed to be. 

“How’s the leg?” Haseul asked. She spoke fae, her accent changing the circular patterns of the language to something lyrical. Though the words sounded strange, they were a comfort to hear. “Jinsoul always tries to take the pain away, but,” she trailed off, her brow furrowed. 

Vivi was happy to speak in her language. “I can walk on it with a limp,” Vivi replied. _And it also hurts like a mortal’s hell._

“We’ll go sit by the fire,” she said. “Today was a hard day.” Her arm rose, but she seemed to think better of it, letting it fall. She started walking, but slowly. 

It was clear that Haseul had wanted to give her a hand. Vivi appreciated that she hadn't. She may not have had much of an idea of how moonlight worked, but she wasn’t weak. If the rest didn’t acknowledge that, she’d have to show it. Otherwise they’d truly believe she was incapable of acting on her own accord. And that’d open her up to more confrontation. 

“So there’re different duties?” Vivi asked. She wanted to know how exactly Haseul knew their language so well. The obvious answer was that she’d learned it. But that said nothing about why. The elves cared little for them, but the fae relied on them when an issue with spirits came about. 

She nodded. “Sometimes there’s a rotation, other times not at all. Patrol’s one of those.” 

And from what she’d seen, those not born into the Astra were relegated there. What of the others? Would she see born-Astra as well? Or not at all?

“There’s also hunting, scavenging, healing—combat too.” She nodded to a place where some were sparring between tents and fires. A younger boy against one of the elders. The boy was slowly starting to hold his own, but he lacked a proper stance. The elder wasn’t attacking that weakness. Perhaps this round was for the boy’s self-confidence. 

“Which are you?”

“Either combat or hunting,” Haseul replied. “Though that sort of hunting isn’t for animals.”

“You look for spirits to purify?”

She wrinkled her nose. “I’d say yes, but I’m not a fan of that word.” 

That was interesting. “Others use it,” Vivi said. “Some say you negate the negative emotions, allowing the positive to overcome the spirit. Then they’re free of things like anger and fear.” 

Her brow rose. “These the emotional fae talking?”

Vivi nodded. What did the elves know about them? What misconceptions were there? Did they think all mental fae were evil? That all elementals were aggressive? 

“Makes better sense than purging the evil from them.” Haseul shook her head. “A ridiculous way to look at it.” 

“Won’t others hear you?” Vivi looked around. 

“Most won’t understand us as well as you do them,” she replied. “And the elders usually don’t care.”

Finally, they sat down by a fire. Vivi stretched out her leg. She couldn’t find anything about this fire pit that made it different from the rest. How would she find it again? 

She didn’t ask about that. She had a different question. Now she could ask it. “Then why do you know it better than them?”

“Not how?” 

Vivi shook her head. “You learned it.” 

Haseul grinned. “Good point.” She stoked the flames with a white stick. The stick then vanished, absorbed back into her skin. “For one thing, I've got to be ready for almost all negotiations. Second, it’ll be something we’ll all need one day. When our groups actually coexist peacefully.”

She couldn’t help her disbelief. “That sounds a bit idealistic.”

“I know,” Haseul sighed, “but we’re immortal. One day could be in a thousand years.” Then she smiled again. “But at least you and I’re talking. And I’m going to hope my accent doesn’t sound terrible.”

Vivi smiled slightly. “It doesn’t.”

Haseul nodded. “You can understand everything we say, right?” 

“Yes. When Heejin had been speaking, I hadn’t been able to understand everything,” she said. “But some.” _Enough_ , she added silently. 

“Right,” she bit her lip, “I don’t know what happened there.” She straightened. “But she’ll come around.” 

“And how long until then?”

Haseul only shrugged. At least she wasn't being a blind optimist here. 

Vivi knew outrage like that. She knew it simmered, even if she'd hardly done anything to deserve it. There was a part of her that wanted to trust the judgement of the rest. They were surprised at how Heejin acted. Was Vivi supposed to pay more attention to it?

She dismissed the thought. She wouldn’t give Heejin the benefit of the doubt. Whatever the case, Heejin would have to be the one to bridge whatever gaps there were. Vivi wouldn’t be a slave to hope. Not again. 

_____

Hyunjin frowned at the girl in front of her. 

“What was that?” Some would say she had little right questioning her, but Heejin wouldn't. She'd be frustrated, Hyunjin knew that, but there was still a good chance she'd listen. Or at least explain. 

Heejin scowled. “They’ll doubt _her_ being here, but wouldn’t doubt it before?” 

“And you’re going to take that out on her?” Hyunjin raised a brow. 

“I wasn’t allowed to take anything out on anyone!” Her pink eyes blazed. “The second this becomes too much for me, you’re going to tell me I can’t say anything?” 

There was so much anger. Hyunjin had felt some of it earlier while they were fighting, but Heejin had controlled it better then. She knew it'd help her in a real fight.

But now that she wasn’t focusing on something else, Heejin was letting her anger run freely. Hyunjin wished it hadn’t been building up like this. Was it her fault for not talking about it more? She didn't know how to talk about this, especially not Hyejoo. 

“I never said that.” Hyunjin held up her hands, resisting the urge to take hold of the other’s. “You can take it out all you want on me, but not on someone who’s come here alone, an outsider only because of the way she was born.” And if the rest had had problems with Jungeun and the others, just because they weren’t Astra, then Viian would face something even worse. 

“ _She_ was never an outsider and look what they did,” Heejin spat. “They never doubted it, because it suited them to throw her away.” 

And here, it didn’t suit them to accept someone who was half an elf. But Vivi didn't know this. She didn't know what had happened before. Not yet. 

“And this's exactly when you’re _not_ supposed to act like them.” Hyunjin didn’t say it, but Heejin was better than that. 

In the next moment, pink eyes were just a few centimetres away. 

Hyunjin didn’t step away. She maintained her ground as if she was in a fight, but her mind wasn't as steady. They hadn't been this close outside of training in—how long had it been? 

“Don’t you dare tell me I’m acting like them,” Heejin hissed. “You saw it just as well as I did. You know how wrong it was.” 

“Yes,” Hyunjin said. “But you’re making everyone think you’re rejecting her for a different reason.” She paused. “For the reason I thought _you_ were rejecting her.” And she hadn’t wanted to believe it. She was glad she hadn’t. 

“And that was?” Her brow rose a fraction. She was still so close. Too close. 

“She’s half fae.” 

Heejin drew her head back. “That makes no difference.”

“Then don’t act like it does,” Hyunjin replied. "Don't make her think it does." 

She scoffed and pushed past her. 

“Wait.”

“No.” Then Heejin was gone. 

Hyunjin sighed. At least she knew what the problem was. Would it be solved any time soon? Was there anything she could do to help? 

She hoped so. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we're in the camp now. In my head, the Astra are more of a society that bridge the gaps between a city and a camp, if that makes any sense. They're ready to be on the move if necessary, but they're not a nomadic people. 
> 
> Regardless, the situation I've been alluding to with Olivia happened some time ago—a bit over fifty years, but due to immortality that hasn't quite led to there being massive changes in individuals. The wounds it left are still fresh for some and avoided by others (though some do just forget).
> 
> Hope you're enjoying the story so far! Would love to know any thoughts you're having. 


	5. Burden

Olivia pulled away from the shadows. Being surrounded by them hadn’t always been so comfortable. Once the cold had terrified her. After the fear had faded, she’d been disgusted by it. The shadows latched onto her as rain did, never leaving no matter how fast she moved or tried to veer away from the darker curls on the ground. 

Now it felt like pulling away from an embrace. She knew she was stronger in the shadows than out of them. She could see through the dark as she’d once been able to see the light in others. If she looked at the world normally, she wouldn’t be able to tell her feet from the ground, but the moment she looked deeper into the world, she saw what the darkness coated. 

At first it hadn’t been useful. At first it had just been dizzying. Why bother deciphering the shadows when she could simply make an improvised torch to find her way. 

After using her abilities for other ends, ones where she needed to remain undiscovered, that enhanced vision became invaluable. 

“There you are.” Zelena smiled at her. “Go smoothly?” She was half-fae and elf. She had deep blue eyes, more like an early evening sky. 

Olivia shrugged. “A few spirits came along.” 

She sighed. “Damn.” She put a hand on her shoulder. “Alluin’s already got something for you. I’ll put a plate aside for you.”

“Thank you.” It wasn’t unusual to have two or three things to do in succession. And with the rumours circulating around human societies, most of them being confined to superstition, those who were hopeful (or desperate) would come to them. 

“And Olivia,” Zelena squeezed her shoulder, “the fae will hear of it. They’ll send the mentals their way. They always do.”

She nodded. Not all of the fairies were able to manipulate the mind, but some could. It was a terrifying threat to have on their side. They were only lucky that the mental fae usually stayed out of conflicts. And that they weren’t completely defenceless. 

There were some elves with a similar magic, but they were rare. As uncommon as non-Astran lunar elves were. So there were enough. 

And most with that magic took on the duty of going to mortals who'd seen what they shouldn't have. Though they didn’t live long, with the exception of vampires and certain witches, their lives could be ruined if they were faced by what they called ‘supernatural’. Other humans didn’t believe them and if they did, there was a risk of panic. The rumours were rarely erased from people’s minds. Over the years, it had led to myths and tales being spun, some awfully similar to the truth. 

Olivia went through the haphazardly strewn about tents. Unlike others, their camp did move around. Frequently. At first, Olivia hadn’t wanted to be anywhere near them. The darkness surrounding most had scared her, the abilities of others had terrified her. They still did, but she knew some of them enough that she could trust them not to kill her if she turned her back to them. 

It wasn’t a group where she was bound. In the beginning, she’d only ever got word through a brief message, either scribed through shadow or the earth. When she wanted to spend less time stealing and more elsewhere, it was fine until a key job was required of her. 

Olivia reached the place in question. Its walls were of white linen. Freshly cleaned. Or bought. Some of the others had a penchant to indulge themselves in luxury. Alluin wasn’t exempt from it. 

She drew back the flap and peeked in. 

Alluin and Shaerra lounged on a set of deep blue cushions. They were of a soft, yet glossy material. Zelena had said it was silk. Or was it velvet?

“Olivia,” Alluin smiled, getting to his feet, “had something made you angry in the house?”

He knew. Such news reached him quickly. The ease with which he handled what he did was almost unsettling. 

“No,” she said. “They always approach me when I’m alone. Especially on a night with little light.” 

He nodded. “You did well.” His eyes were black, like Olivia’s, but where hers looked like pitch, his were like ink. He was an Astra like her, one who’d gotten darkness instead of light. And she’d never heard of him before he’d found her. Would she be a secret among them? Would there be people who, in a hundred years or more, didn't know she'd existed? 

Olivia took out the payment from her bag. It was heavy, full of more gold than silver. It had been one of the more formidable jobs, from what she’d gathered. It’d certainly been something political and territorial. 

“Keep it.” His smile softened. “What I have for you next won’t be easy.”

She wondered what he considered ‘not easy’. The last job he’d thought wasn’t easy had included Olivia nearly getting burned alive by a witch coven. And that hadn’t even been expected. The ‘not easy’ was getting past the guards. During the day. 

She put the money deep into her knapsack. It was a worn leather thing from a mortal market. She’d actually bought it and it’d survived for four years now. She’d sewn some parts of it again, but it was large enough to fit what they sent her to take. Mostly. And it didn’t shine as some mortal leather did. 

“What is it?” Olivia asked. 

Shaerra had stood as well. She was taller than her by a head. A sea elf, but she had an affinity for controlling blood. Olivia always felt uncomfortable around her. Was that how it felt to be around darkness? 

“The target is a person,” Alluin said slowly. As the words began to unravel in her mind, his eyes softened. “You’re to kill them.” 

“No,” Olivia said. They would not make a murderer out of her. How many stories had she heard of cold rooms with even colder corpses. And some of the elves, fairies, and those in between spoke of them as well. Some even boasted about their efforts. She wouldn’t add any rooms to that, nor any bodies. 

“It’s not as if you’ve never done such a thing before,” Alluin said. The words were harsh, but he said them gently. All treated him like the humans did kings or princes. With a handsome face and all shadows bending to his will, it made sense. 

Olivia knew he was just drawing on them, either passively or actively. Whatever the case, it ensured others felt his power. She could’ve done the same. She tended to do it as well, but his influence on the shadows was greater than hers. 

Her respect came from somewhere else. He was like her. He’d taught her much of what she knew. What she’d needed for a tolerable life—some form of company (despite never feeling fully at ease with the rest), a fairly safe haven, and money—he was the reason she had it. 

She respected him, yes, but there was no denying where that money came from. He’d lived far longer than she had. The cooperation with mortals had perhaps been in place since she’d been a child. That included thievery, violence, and murder. Even if she’d willingly done two of those things, something deep in Olivia recoiled at the third. 

“Just because I’ve done it before doesn’t mean I want to do it again.” Olivia didn’t want to think about it. She’d killed someone, yes, but in self-defence. Not because of a contract. 

“You think you’re just here to steal trinkets and paper?” Shaerra sneered. 

Olivia wanted to say she’d come here for money. She’d come here to learn. And a small part of her had hoped to find a place again. She'd learned and she'd gotten her money. And she'd learned to live with the fact that where she was now would never become a home. It was a reality she’d accepted after being sent on the first job. It had been one where she hadn’t known what awaited her. She hadn’t expected to encounter armed resistance. She'd needed to fight her way out of it, causing some to scream in terror at the sight of her. And they'd congratulated her. 

“You can send me to steal and spy,” Olivia said. “But I won’t kill.”

“We only ever go after those who deserve it,” Alluin said, his eyes kind.

Deserve. There were mortals who deserved death? In lives that were already short? Olivia knew there were exceptions. She knew there might have been those who certainly deserved death. 

“It’s not easy to take a life,” he continued, “and it’s good that it isn’t easy, or else things would fall to pieces.” A small smile appeared, before his expression grew serious again. “There are mortals out there who’ve been wronged, their lives either ruined or ended. Those who are the cause are allowed to live freely, either due to their wealth or simply evading justice.”

It was what she’d been told before. That had been to justify thievery. She'd accepted that easily enough. 

“We take the burden,” Shaerra said. “From those whose short lives wouldn’t allow them to forget.”

Olivia frowned at that. “So we're able to forget?” She wasn’t that naive. She knew of the rumours. She knew of the terror some felt regarding the stories. They spoke of cold rooms with shaky voices, even if they hadn’t ever been near one. And whoever Shaerra had killed—Olivia didn't want to think about how she'd done it. 

“Slowly.” Her expression softened. “The mortals say that time heals one’s wounds. They don’t live long enough for most of them to heal. We do.”

“Not all wounds heal,” Alluin gave Shaerra a sharp look, “I know, but we’re able to distance ourselves more than they can. And the people you’re sent to are those who’ve wronged others, sometimes more than even we were.” His eyes flicked to the floor, looking almost sad. “Were it not for the rest of what those mortals can do, I would’ve lost my faith in the humans long before.” He looked at her then. His eyes were black like Olivia’s were. They had more light to them than hers did. Somehow. “It’s worse than what was done to you. The stripping of people’s freedom to act, freedom to think, even just to live.” 

Olivia fought the urge to look away. “Murder takes the freedom to live as well.”

“Have you ever heard of the mortal saying,” Alluin began, “an eye for an eye?”

She shook her head. 

“So many mortals never have the capability to take that eye, to take their revenge. They live their lives knowing they were too weak to bring some sort of justice into the world.” He sighed. Then he took a step forward, almost beckoning her to come closer as well. 

Olivia didn’t. She didn’t step away either. Alluin was like her, but far more powerful. But he respected power. So she couldn’t show she was afraid. In the beginning, that had been one of the view things she'd needed to do. In addition to doing the jobs they wanted her to do. 

“I’ve given them that justice, as has Shaerra. The others have all overcome this first step. Just as you will as well.” Alluin put a cool hand on her shoulder, squeezing it gently. “It’s difficult, and that’s how it’s supposed to be. But there’s no one else who can do this. Not really.”

The three of them fell silent. Olivia only heard the distant chatter of the rest. Some had returned from jobs as she had. A few from infiltration jobs or from a theft. Others returned from assassination contracts. To give out justice. Blindly. To give the mortals who'd been wronged peace of mind. 

“It’ll be in Korea,” Alluin held out a roll of paper, “Hear what she has to say first. Her reasons and the person in question may be surprising.” He met her eyes. “And this is a case where it should be known you did it.”

Either witnesses or other clear signs of the work done. Did he expect her to coat the room in shadows? Colour one of their limbs black? Bathe their eyes in darkness? 

Just the thought made her shudder. Mortals. These were people she didn’t know. People who wouldn’t have meant much harm on her otherwise. Even if they intended to, they would never succeed. She wasn’t mortal. It had been unfair since the moment they were born. Their lives were fleeting and hopelessly short. They either filled it with pursuits of happiness, glory, or wealth, or so it often seemed. Some were cruel, others possessed golden hearts. And they were all mortal. 

“Once you hear her story,” Shaerra’s eyes had turned incredibly kind, “you might not even feel the doubt you do now.” 

Did they already know what had happened to the mortal? Or was there some sort of link in the darkness? Like the ones of light that seers like Eline could read. Was Olivia supposed to have threads in the past that bound her to this woman? Two wrongs that were made with the same effect? One of those being a wrong she could right?

Olivia took the paper. It felt far heavier than it looked. “I’ll go.” 

_____

The pain was sudden, piercing. It went deep into her chest, spreading from her heart to her lungs. 

Gowon hissed, dropping her plate. It tumbled to the ground, half of its contents rolling through the dirt and towards the fire. She paid it little attention. 

She was cold, but her chest burned. 

“Chae,” Chuu’s hand went to her shoulder, “what is it?” 

Gowon looked up, only to see that Chuu’s brow was already furrowed. She already looked more concerned than confused. 

“It’s just,” she glanced at the rest who’d looked her way, “I pulled a muscle today. Training.”

Kolina chuckled. "You're training too? For what?" 

Gowon didn't answer her. 

“Should I get the obsidian?” Sooyoung's brow furrowed. She looked more tired than usual. 

Gowon shook her head. More quickly than she should’ve. The thought of a glittering black rock made the pain even worse. She saw dark eyes filling with pinpricks of light, something she’d seen in the best moments of her life. She hadn’t seen those eyes in ages, not even in memory. 

She bit her lip as the pain grew worse. She felt something else then. It took hold of her, drawing her attention away from the physical world and towards the light. She saw the light held within the others and what she herself possessed. But flowing out from her was a thin grey cloud. It darkened the further away it went from her, going from grey to black. It disappeared into the forest, but a part of her knew it went much farther than that. 

And it was tied to her. She’d never seen it before. 

Watching it, Gowon felt bile rise in her throat. All of it, the pain, the smoke, the memories—it was all wrong. 

“Come on,” Chuu stood, taking her with her, “we’ll go to Jinsoul.” Her eyes were on the forest. Where the grey smoke was going. She could see it. And the rest couldn't. 

“Nuala’s still around,” Teveril said. "Maybe she could give you something." 

Chuu ignored him and steered Gowon to the forest. Away from the grey. Gowon watched it. It flickered before dissolving into nothing. The pain dulled. As did the memories. The face that had been so clear to her, one with a smile, dulled in her mind. 

She found her voice. “Stop.” She didn't want to lose the memory of Hyejoo's face. 

”We can’t,” Chuu replied. “That’s what’s hurting you.”

“I,” Gowon faltered. What was she going to say? She needed to see her face again? It was impossible to forget what she looked like, but all Gowon remembered was a face streaked with tears and black blood. She only saw fear and confusion in dark eyes. If they stayed where they were, she'd see how Hyejoo had been before then. She wouldn’t mind the pain if she had that. 

“Wait until we're further away,” Chuu murmured. 

They walked between the tents and fires. Only one caught her eye. Haseul and Viian sat beside one, talking softly in the fae language. The fae had rarely been spread out enough to develop completely different languages. Of course there were dialects, but if you knew one, you could talk to any of them. 

Viian had eyes and hair that were a soft pink. Gowon wondered if her hair was that way because of her magic or just voluntary.

Then Viian looked up, straight at Gowon. Her brow furrowed for a moment, before it smoothed over. But Gowon knew she'd seen something. She wouldn't know what she'd seen, because she didn't know much about the magic of the moon. Not yet at least.

The newcomer's eye drifted to Chuu. And then the direction they'd come. Her blank expression remained, but she was fully focused on what was behind Chuu and Gowon. She was also seeing the bond. That should've been impossible. Unless the girl had some connection to that magic. Already? 

"Keep going," Chuu said. 

Gowon nodded. Her many questions about the newcomer grew. She wondered if Viian would ask Haseul about it or keep it to herself. Haseul would know to keep that a secret. If the rest learned that Viian had the magic of a seer, their confusion would turn to outrage soon enough. 

They walked to a portion of the forest much farther than the river they usually went to. If they walked really far, they’d get to a small lake, nearly a pond, but still large enough to swim and bathe in. 

She felt drained. Empty. She kept trying to summon what she’d seen when the pain came. She kept trying to see Hyejoo. What greeted her each time was a broken and terrified Olivia. 

It didn’t make her feel that terrible pain. Just an ache. 

Chuu led her to a fallen tree. She had her sit down. The other elf pulled out her waterskin and handed it to her. 

Gowon took it and drank. It was both warm and cool as it leaked down her throat. The pain in her lungs faded, leaving only that ache. 

“You know what happened,” she said. It sounded more like a croak to her ears. 

Chuu didn’t respond, but when Gowon looked up, she saw resignation in peach-coloured eyes. 

Then she did say something. “Do you?”

Gowon shook her head immediately. 

Or did she know? Had she gotten some sort of message? Had Hyejoo realised that the light had bound them? Had she tried to deliberately rid herself of it? Or was this just a very pointed thought of hatred directed at Gowon? None of the questions seemed like they’d have a good answer. 

“Something happened,” Chuu said. “Something that strengthened,” she trailed off, “something.” She frowned. 

Gowon didn’t ask how she knew. She had her suspicions, but Chuu had never said a word about it. Seers weren’t all that rare, but they were always boxed in, kept safe and at arm’s length. Gowon knew Chuu would hate that. Not only did it mean she’d be seen differently, but she wouldn’t be able to do what she normally did. 

“Hye—she’s done something,” Chuu continued. “Or decided to do something. I don’t know. But it’s changed things. You felt the force of that, I think.” 

“Eline said it was broken,” Gowon shook her head, “that the bond was shattered.” The only pain she ever felt was because of the tatters that were left from it. This was a flare of it. Something twisted. 

“It did break,” Chuu replied. Coming from her, the words stung. “But I don’t think it ever disappeared.”

And those words struck her, as if she’d been tackled by a spirit the size of a bear. 

Gowon closed her eyes. “Don’t say that. Just tell me what it means.” 

“I don’t know.” Chuu’s arms went around her. “But figuring it out means actually facing it. So tell me about it.” 

“What I felt was—it wasn’t right.” 

The grip on her body tightened. Gowon leaned into the touch. 

“You know,” Gowon said. “You know what it was. What it meant?”

“Not exactly, but,” she faltered. She pulled away, but one arm stayed around Gowon’s shoulders. 

There were footsteps in that moment. Someone was running. Gowon recognised the footfalls and the steady breath. 

“Are you alright?” Yves was at her other side. Her hand brushed through Gowon’s hair immediately. “They weren’t exactly letting me leave. At least not with an excuse like muscle pain.” 

Gowon grimaced. “I could’ve said a heart attack instead.”

Yves chuckled. “You’re old, but not that old.”

“Not like you," Gowon threw back. 

A small pinch on her arm. Then Yves also wrapped an arm around her. 

“What happened?” 

Gowon glanced at Chuu. She just looked at her with warm eyes. 

When she looked back at Yves, the older elf was frowning between them. There was a flicker of hurt in her eyes. 

“I think I felt something from her,” Gowon whispered. She was almost certain that no one was around them, but she wouldn’t risk it. 

It may not have been general knowledge, but Eline had undoubtedly told the other elders about Hyejoo and her. It was so they’d know these connections could break. It had also made sure that in the first years, Gowon had been asked how she felt almost every other week. She’d stopped telling them that she felt cold, that she always felt alone, and that she hated what they’d done—what she’d done. Well, she hadn’t ever told them that last part. 

“Wasn’t that,” Yves began. “You said you never felt anything like that. Afterwards.” 

“I didn’t. Not until now.”

“That could be good, right?” Yves ran a hand through her hair. “Maybe she’s coming closer? Or got closer to the light somehow?” Even so, a frown appeared. “Is that possible?”

Gowon shook her head. “It wasn’t good. I know that.” 

“How?” 

“What I felt,” she huddled closer between them, needing the warmth, “it wasn’t right. It was off. I don’t know how, but I know it was…was—”

“Breathe,” Chuu said softly. “We don’t have to figure this out now.”

“We do,” Gowon said, trying to temper her voice. It’d been so long since they’d actually talked about Hyejoo. And it'd been so long since she’d felt anything slightly different to the constant ache. She needed to know why it was happening. “What if she made a choice, one that took her even further away?” What would that have been? 

Both girls were silent. Yves’s eyes were on the forest in front of them. 

“Further away from the light?” Yves asked. “Or from you?”

It couldn’t have been from her. Gowon had already done enough there. 

“And you never felt anything before?” Chuu turned to her, eyes now serious. They looked like that more often now. “Not even a tug?”

Gowon shook her head. She hadn’t ever forgotten, but had she missed something? Had she been on a hunt and mistaken a surge of pain for something else? No. It wasn’t a muscle pain. It was too distinct for that. Not even the ache could ever be mistaken for something physical. 

Chuu’s brow furrowed and she looked back over her shoulders. Towards the place they’d come. Could she see something? Something Gowon couldn’t?

“Does it still hurt?” 

“No,” Gowon said. “It stopped when we were walking away.”

“I don’t think distance has much to do with it,” Chuu said. 

She knew it was true. In the past five years, they’d been hearing accounts of a girl shrouded in darkness, creating dark spirits. Human guards had fought her, but only ever briefly. The mental fae and the few elves who had magic relating to memory had gone after those stories, finding the witnesses. Their memories had been revised to forget key details or chalk things up completely to superstitious ramblings. But the elves who had come to them, both to send word and to question them, had seen the memories themselves. They’d known it was Olivia. 

Some had wanted to go after her. They’d wanted to hunt her down. It had been the one time Gowon’s vote had done anything even slightly of use to Hyejoo. Her voice hadn’t been needed, neither had those of Chuu or Yves. Heejin had been the first to outright decline it, snapping at those considering it. Haseul and the rest had joined her. Chuu, Yves, and Gowon had only been able to voice their opposition when they weren’t around.

While the outrage towards the three of them had faded, Gowon knew that they’d never forgiven them. She understood it, but that didn't mean the glares Yeojin sent her were more bearable. It hadn’t made Heejin’s cold gaze any less painful. It hadn't lessened the shame when speaking to Hyunjin or Haseul, whose eyes had once been filled with disappointment. The only ones who didn’t show it were Jungeun and Jinsoul. Jungeun and Chuu had grown much closer recently. Choerry had started to look into their eyes around the same time. 

“What’re you thinking it is?” Yves asked. She looked at Chuu. 

Gowon could see the other’s mind working. Whatever she was thinking, she was going over her words, debating what to say and what not to. Gowon knew exactly that Yves would pick up on it. And that she'd be hurt. 

“It’s a warning,” Chuu said. “Something is bringing her closer to darkness than to the moon.”

Others would’ve immediately said that Hyejoo wasn’t connected to the moon anymore. Gowon couldn’t believe it. She knew the Chuu and Yves didn’t either. And the other girls also knew that Hyejoo hadn't been lost completely. They just hadn’t ever talked about it. It was an unspoken rule never to mention it to them. 

“And what happens if she gets there?” Gowon put a hand to her chest. She sought the light there. She looked for the grey she’d seen before. And she found it. It reached away from her only faintly. To some place far off behind her. Focusing on it brought the pain back, but it was only slightly sharper than the ache. She didn't see Hyejoo's smile. She saw nothing but the grey. 

“I don’t know. It could mean whatever you’re feeling now,” Chuu sighed, “that it goes completely?”

She felt cold at the thought. Nothing. Not even the pain from it? And now that she knew the bond wasn’t completely gone, what did that mean? Was the pain felt for years a result from it always being there? Even if only in shambles, it meant Gowon hadn't severed the bond completely. Even so, it didn't mean that it could ever be repaired. 

A thumb brushed across her cheek. Yves gave her a tiny smile. It was a shaky one, but an attempt at one. 

More tears fell as Gowon closed her eyes. She saw Hyejoo’s face again and she only saw her pain. The pain Gowon had caused. 

Where was she now? What was she thinking? What was she going to do? Or was it not going to be an action? Would it just be a moment in time when she turned away from them completely? A moment where there’d be nothing left? 

Gowon didn’t know the answer to any of that. She couldn't ask the others either. They wouldn't know. Bonds had been lost before, but they’d never been destroyed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A longer chapter this time. I wanted to show both sides of what's currently happening. There had been a point where I'd wanted to explore how Olivia had first come to the group she's in now. However, that's not the focus of this story. I may explore it a bit in later chapters, but it's not my priority. 
> 
> I've been using both their stage names and real names throughout. It's the most important in the case of Olivia/Hyejoo. If it gets confusing, just let me know, but I'm pretty confident that it'll be understandable who Jiwoo/Chuu is and so on. 
> 
> The matter of the bond between Olivia and Gowon may be confusing, but just know that it was damaged/corrupted on the day Olivia was banished. Where in the case of Heejin and Priad, it's there, plain and simple, the one between Hyewon is more painful than anything. 
> 
> And when the characters look into the light or darkness, think of it like when you hold a pencil close to your face. When you focus on it, the background blurs, when you look at the background, the pencil blurs. Looking into the light is like focusing on the background. I'll hopefully be able to explain that better in the next chapter.
> 
> Would love to know what you think so far. Both about the present and what happened in the past. 


	6. Curiosity

Sixty years ago 

_Hyejoo shook her head. “Nothing.” She looked at dull hands. Her skin was pale, but that didn’t mean much here. Without the light, it meant close to nothing._

_“Not true,” Chaewon said. She took her hands. “I can see it. Here.” She squeezed her hands before running her fingers up Hyejoo’s arms. Each touch made her skin tingle with warmth. “And here too.” She tapped her chest and then her head. “It’s just about finding where it’s focused.”_

_“Maybe,” she fought a sigh, “but there’s not enough there anyway.” Eline had said as much. aNuala worried for each injury she had for that reason too. There wasn't enough light to heal her anywhere near as quickly as the rest._

_“There’s enough.” Light green eyes met hers. “Remember where mine is?”_

_“Heart.” And there couldn't have been a better fit._

_Chaewon smiled. “Have you tried there?”_

_Hyejoo nodded. "It's not there.” Some people had theories for why the light focused on certain people. Jinsoul was one of the more thoughtful of the elves and her light focused, naturally, in the centre of her head._

_“And your stomach?” Her smile grew. “I’m both serious and joking.”_

_She hadn’t thought of that. She closed her eyes and focused her attention there. Where her heart didn’t seem to have much light at all, there was a bit more there. Nothing like the others had. Either it was actually focused there and Hyejoo just didn’t have enough, or she hadn’t found the right spot. She wondered if she even had one._

_Again, she shook her head. "We don’t have to continue.” She knew Chaewon was patient and she appreciated that to no end. But everyone had limits. Hyejoo was quickly reaching her own._

_Even though she'd long given up, Chaewon had tried_ to _convince her again and again to agree to try again with the light._ _She'd created staffs, blocks, and daggers, all for Hyejoo to try and control. It never worked. So now she'd decided to try from the absolute basics—all the tests Hyejoo had failed the first time as a child._

_Chaewon held her hands again. “Not yet. You have it.”_

_“Have you seen it?” Hyejoo didn’t want to be pessimistic, but getting false hope was as bad as not having it at all._

_“No,” she admitted. “But it’s like with Yeojin. No one saw it until she’d found it herself.” She raised a hand to Hyejoo’s cheek then. “It’s buried.”_

_She fought the urge to look away. Sometimes practice was more nerve wracking instead of frustrating._

_So she held Chaewon’s gaze, but didn’t focus on it. Instead she concentrated on her hands. Hyunjin’s light lay there. She found nothing in her own._

_She looked up her arms, finding nothing either. She even focused on her legs. Also nothing._

_“Don’t get annoyed,” Chaewon murmured. “It’ll just make it harder to find it.” Her thumb brushed across her skin._

_Hyejoo fought a sigh. Instead she took a long breath and let it out through her nose. Chaewon was so close that she’d smell her breath. Not quite what she wanted from this._

_She looked at her neck. There were flickers of something. She went to her ears, some had it there, but tended not to talk about it. Also something._

_When she got to her eyes, there was warmth. Not a lot, but it was there. She tried to pull on it. Her grip slipped. So she tried focusing in on it more. Her head started to hurt with the effort._

_A breathy laugh left the person in front of her. “You found it!”_

_Hyejoo found herself being tugged forward. Her nose brushed Chaewon’s and green eyes were all she could see. They were even brighter than normal._

_She also found that she couldn’t breath right._

_“Your eyes,” Chaewon said, her breath gently brushing Hyejoo’s lips. It smelled more like fruit than anything else. “They’re like that dark stone. The one that sea elf used when Sooyoung had that back injury.”_

_“Obsidian,” Hyejoo finished quietly._

_“Yeah,” she looked between her eyes, “do you feel any different?” Curiosity had filled Chaewon's light green eyes._

Nervous _, she thought. “Not really. Warmer?” And she had a headache now._

_Chaewon pulled away suddenly, dropping her hands. “Sorry,” she glanced at her, “it was really cool to see them change.”_

_“Is there that big a difference?”_

_She nodded. “They weren’t dull before, but they,” she trailed off. And then ducked her head slightly._

_“They what?” Was there something Chaewon had been making light of? And now she was letting things slip?_

_Chaewon bit her lip._

_Hyejoo chuckled. “Now I’m just more curious.”_

_“That’s a fairy thing,” she shot back. Then she sighed. “Your eyes only shine when you‘re happy, but there was always something.” She suddenly sounded more sure of herself. “Which’s also why they never thought you had it in you.“_

_“And you always knew?” Hyejoo tried not to sound like she didn’t believe her. She just suspected that Chaewon had been imagining it. Mortal eyes could shine, as could water._

_“Don’t say it like that, Hye,” Chaewon frowned, “I saw what I saw.”_

_“Was this on a sunny day? A full moon?” Everyone glowed on those. And the sun was always the bringer of light in some shape or form._

_“Both. And then when there was a new moon, a half moon, and a crescent moon.” A pause. “Whenever you were happy, I saw that,” she said. “Not like water in the sunlight or a blade in the moonlight, but like obsidian.”_

_Hyejoo only nodded. And now that she’d found the light, what was to come next? There wasn’t enough to grasp at._

_If it was in her eyes, what was that supposed to mean?_

_Hyejoo would’ve rather it be in her hands._

_____

“Up you get,” someone was shaking her, lightly, “lots to do today.” A harder shake. 

Vivi fought a sigh. “It was hard enough to fall asleep during the day.” At the very beginning of the day. She'd been lying awake for hours, thinking over all that had happened. A lot of it wasn't ideal. And she knew it would take a long time to grow accustomed to the new sleep schedule. For the Astra, if it was morning, it was time for bed. And sunset was basically early morning. Vivi wished she'd realised that sooner. Then she could've better prepared herself. 

Haseul smiled. “Once you're out there, under the sky, you'll feel better." 

"I hope so." She sat up and stretched. “So you’re not only teaching me, but you’re the one to wake me up?” 

“I could’ve sent Yeojin. She does a really good job at that.” 

“Alright,” Vivi nodded, “good it was you.” She’d barely known the orange-eyed elf a day, but the girl seemed to allow no compromise, even for someone a century or two her senior. 

“Did you want new clothes or are you good with that?” Haseul held a pile of white linen in her hands. Very similar to the material that the other elves wore. Vivi had noted that some had taken to embellishing their clothes with patches or tears, as well as dirt. Choerry belonged to that. As did Yeojin. 

Vivi looked down at what she wore. The cloth was so smooth it felt like silk, but didn’t attract dirt due to the enchantment on it. It was both airy and insulating. It was very clearly the work of a fae. If she kept it on, that'd probably be interpreted as a statement. 

“I’ll keep these for now,” Vivi said. 

Haseul nodded, a hint of a smile on her face as she put pile down. “It’s a relaxed morning today, so I’ll show you the outskirts of camp.” 

“Outskirts?” Just how large was this place? It seemed well populated, but had they spread out a lot? 

The elf held out a hand. “First the place to clean up and then the area you’ll end up spending most of your time.”

“So the perimeter?” Vivi took her hand. It was warm. 

Haseul pulled her up with surprising ease. The effects of whatever training she’d had? 

Vivi noted they were the same height. Then she wondered why that stuck out to her. 

"There's a basin there for you to clean your teeth. I wasn't sure if you had anything, so there's," Haseul chuckled, "that." She slipped out of the tent then. 

The paste for teeth cleaning was almost sweet. Vivi wondered if that was supposed to be healthy. She did have some things with her, but she'd not unpacked them yet. 

She shared a tent with Haseul and Yeojin. As she brushed her teeth, Vivi realised that Yeojin wasn't there. Either she was an early (late) riser, or Haseul had let Vivi sleep in. 

When she got out of the tent, it was far from dark. Even more than yesterday, many fires were lit around the camp. The light from them flickered across the tents, made from a material similar to the one of the clothes. The tents were tall constructs with flowing sides. Nothing that looked like it could withstand rough weather. But if it was true that the Astra worked with the elves who lived primarily in the north or on different mountain ranges, then they’d have the magic to hadnle that. Vivi was pretty sure that was the case, as she’d rarely felt so comfortable and warm in the autumn. 

As the two of them walked through the camp, some elves looked over with questioning gazes. Thankfully, there were only a few glares. All glowed softly, be it from their skin, their eyes, or even the trails of blood that marked a person beneath their skin. That didn’t seem to expend their moonlight. She had the suspicion that holding the light was more difficult than expelling it. 

What it all cemented for her was that the elves feared the dark. Sleeping during the day meant they felt safe even when so many others were awake. So the night, while as comfortable for them as the day was to Vivi, still held its own threats. That was probably most prominent when the moon wasn't showing itself in the sky. DId it have to do with the spirits or did the elves just really not like darkness?

So many things to consider. These elves had lived their eternal lives with this lunar connection. Vivi had spent hers living with rock, learning what she could wield with ease or with difficulty and finding what could be moulded the best. In some cases, she could even find minerals. It took a headache-inducing effort, but she could control them. Would it be just as bad when she started trying to control light? Probably. 

“You have the face,” Haseul said. They were at the edge of the forest now. Another place Vivi would have to learn the layout of. They were surrounded by it. Vivi could barely tell where she'd come in from. 

“What face?” When Vivi looked over, she nearly returned the smile Haseul sent her. She stopped it before it could form. 

The elf’s skin had grown brighter. “The one where you’re deep in thought. I’ve seen many fae with that look, as well as some rare exceptions among the elves.” She waved a hand across her face. “I for one’ve never had it on me.” 

“We—the fae always thought your elders were responsible for that. The deepening of your knowledge, be it for any magic you have.” While the rest lived on, their focus on the other elements life had to offer. Things Vivi knew she would have to grasp as well. Learning about what made the light powerful wouldn't be on her list of priorities. 

“A few are,” Haseul shrugged, “but a couple breakthroughs are made from the uncommon elf.” Her eyes twinkled. Her entire being gave off light in an otherwise dark forest. It made the gnarled roots and black trunks much less threatening. 

“But don't you wonder at who first found out how to wield moonlight?” Vivi asked. When it came to the elements, much of it tended to be serendipitous. They encouraged that too. 

Haseul smiled, but there was something else to her gaze. Embarrassment? “You’re going to think I’m terrible, but no.” She directed them to a more well-trodden path. “I think you found it out for yourself, or? That using the light can be instinctive. It’s not like learning how to make a sigil.” 

“I suppose,” Vivi frowned, “but to know what you call upon and how you _really_ do it, that can broaden your understanding even more.” Many times she’d broken rocks apart by hand and examined their layers. To her surprise, she’d learned that the layers had come along at different times. She could differentiate between that, sometimes drawing out one layer completely. Sometimes the oldest one was the strongest, other times it was one in the centre. 

“Do you learn to walk by studying how the bones and muscles work?” Haseul flexed her arm. “Do you strengthen them by knowing exactly how the process works?” 

“You can find more effective ways of training them. Or healing them. An good healer'll pinpoint what’s wrong and know which treatment to apply.” 

“When I teach you how to use the moonlight, it'll mostly go off of feeling and actions similar to taking a breath.” Haseul tilted her head. “Once you get that, you can nail down how we do what we do.” A small smile. “And teach me.” 

Vivi looked at her, trying to see if she was making a jest. There was no sign of humour in Haseul's eyes, only something softer. 

There was a glow to their left. It was pale pink. 

Vivi stopped them. "Is that normal?" she asked as the deer spirit approached them. It was looking at her. Although they weren't supposed to be sentient, Vivi could've sworn the spirit had a kind gaze. 

"They feel safe enough to approach. There's also just two of us."

"Not what I meant," Vivi said. "On my way here, I gave this spirit light. It was one of the ones hunting me." She tentatively reached out. The deer nudged her hand with its nose. 

Haseul knelt down beside her, her brow furrowed. "This exact one?"

Vivi nodded. "Unless pink deer are so very common." And a part of her felt she _knew_ this spirit. Was she recognising the light within it? She had no idea. 

"They're not." She looked between them. "Should we keep going? It'll follow." 

At that, Vivi wondered if the spirit had a gender. She dismissed the thought. She'd known of them before coming here, but only vaguely. Haseul would explain more about it later. 

They kept walking. The spirit did indeed follow them. It wasn't looking expectantly at her. If anything, it seemed content to stroll through the woods. Vivi found that stranger than much of what she'd been seeing lately. That was saying something. 

Soon, the line of trees receded and they came to a river. Vivi hadn’t been listening for the rushing water. Now the sound filled her ears. 

Someone was already there. 

“Good Night,” Haseul nodded to Jinsoul downriver. 

She held five spheres of water aloft. The water flowed slowly within whatever power held them in that shape. Around the elf were several waterskins. 

“Hey,” Jinsoul grinned, “how’s the early rising going?” 

Right, Jinsoul would've also had this phase. 

“Difficult,” Vivi replied. “What is,” she trailed off, gesturing to the water. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the deer plod off back into the forest. Was three too many? Did it not like the water?

Said water began to glow, streams of white appearing and then spreading throughout the spheres. 

“We drink it and use it for healing,” Jinsoul said. 

“It can be consumed?” Light becoming physics was difficult to grasp already, but drinking it? 

Jinsoul smiled. “Weird, I know, but this way we get the strength a little differently. A little stronger, actually.” The first sphere flowed neatly into a waterskin. The elf put on the cap and moved on to the next. There were at least thirty waterskins. She was the only one doing the filling. For a moment, Vivi wondered if it was because she wasn’t born into the clan. Then she dismissed that. She probably was the only one who could control water. 

“Did you learn how to do that?” 

“A couple of us figured it out. Not like the one-man investigations done by the fae.” She filled another. “But no one can do this. At least not neatly." 

“How do you have enough for that today?” Vivi asked. She'd have many questions for these people. They'd have to accept that. Was this 'water duty' the reason Jinsoul couldn’t be on the patrol duty? Jungeun had mentioned something about not having enough light in her for it. Either that, or Jungeun was avoiding her. Or both. 

Jinsoul shrugged. “We always have some light. There's some to be gotten during the day and being out now.” After a small pause, she winked. “Probably not what you wanna hear.”

It probably made her fit the stereotype of the fae, but it was true. “No,” Vivi admitted.

“We set you off, didn’t we?” Haseul chuckled.

“Maybe,” she said. 

“You already have options for it, right?” Jinsoul sat up. The balls of water flowed faster. Was she actually interested? 

Vivi looked between them. Haseul nodded, her green eyes bright—well, there hadn't been a moment when they weren't bright.

“It could be from the stars,” Vivi said. “But I think it’s more likely that more forms of nature store moonlight naturally. And you absorb that without knowing it.” 

“So water, foods, and trees?” Haseul looked around then, squinting. "It's been absorbing it this whole time then?" 

“The ground as well.” Vivi knelt and pressed a hand to it. “If I had the focus you have, perhaps I could find it.” 

“You can feel the traces of it,” Jinsoul was looking at the water, “not enough to have any big effect, but still cool.” Her smile grew. “Jungeun’ll get a kick out of that.” Her smile faltered in that moment. She continued to fill the waterskins. “I also haven’t used much since we found each other.”

Vivi nodded and pulled at the stones in the stream, making a tiny basin. She lifted it to drink. 

“I have a feeling you’ll end up answering many of your own questions,” Haseul said. She sighed. “You probably think we never think for ourselves.”

Vivi had the strong sense this wasn't just about moonlight. She wouldn't press that. 

“It’s how I grew up,” Vivi replied. “The questioning that we do can be overwhelming.” She'd come to love that part of her life, but it'd been difficult to learn _how_ to learn. Neither the humans nor the elves were bound to do such a thing. Some witches seemed to be an exception, but Vivi had despised most of the ones she'd met. 

“But you ask things we probably should’ve figured out ourselves.” Haseul let out a dry laugh. Bitter. "A long time ago."

Vivi shook her head. "As you said, not knowing it didn't affect how you learned. Does what I told you, what you just found, really help with anything?” 

Jinsoul's brow rose. “You don't think so?” 

She shrugged. “We just found out that light's all around us. It doesn’t say much else.” There might have been something there. Vivi might've been interested on another day, in another circumstance, but she found she didn't quite care. 

"But for you, and I don't just mean the fae," Haseul was frowning, "isn't curiosity on its own valuable?"

Vivi nodded. Her answer would be seen as very 'un-fae'. She knew that. And it would be alright.

“It should be.” 

"But not for you?" Haseul looked almost concerned now. What was bothering her?

She just shook her head. It felt like a sudden change. She _had_ been wondering about the moonlight and how it worked. When had that become a reflex rather than an urge to simply know? Had something been drained from her overnight? Or had it been building? 

Vivi didn't know, all she was certain about was that moonlight wasn't like stone, where she'd _wanted_ to know all she could. Moonlight was something completely different. And she was quickly finding that didn't want to repeat the process of learning how to use it. 

"Not anymore."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that first part will have been one of the first flashbacks you'll be having. In the context of their ages, the time I put at the top doesn't quite matter. With respect to how their lives progressed (and how long ago Olivia's banishment was), it does. A bit like how you might be a very different person to last year, but you haven't (there are exceptions, of course) changed much in how you look, like your height or other features. 
> 
> Regardless, I wanted to show a bit more of a lighthearted piece of the past before we get to the crucial moments. As for the present, there's the gradual introduction to things. I apologise if there's a lot of information. If it's too much, do let me know. And if you have questions, be sure to ask them below and I'll answer as best I can. 


	7. Secret

Tonight was a patrol of the forest. They didn’t have to go into the town to ask after spirit sightings. Jungeun always preferred those. Not because she didn’t like them, but because they tended to be exhausting. It always involved eavesdropping wherever she could, keeping actual contact to a minimum. Usually people recognised her, even if she didn’t have her light hair. So it was better to be seen as a wanderer than someone who always asked after weird sightings. Otherwise they’d think she was a witch. 

“When’s Viian going to replace me?” Chuu asked. There was a smile on her face. 

“She’ll be joining these,” Jungeun replied. “Once she’s gotten a grip on the basics.”

A small pause. 

“Please don’t tell me this is you protecting her.” Chuu sighed. “She doesn’t even know yet _what_ you’re protecting her from.” 

Jungeun frowned. “Viian doesn’t know how much light she can hold yet. And she hasn’t even gone through a full moon yet.” It would be mad to let the newcomer on patrols like these now. She would, but only when the girl knew her limits and was strong enough. 

“And what’s Freya going to think if she’s not doing her duty?”

“She knew full well what she was putting her up to,” she shot back. “And if anyone’s got a problem with it, I’ll drag ‘em to the next spirit pair and tell them to fight with a steel sword.”

Chuu chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’ve got no problem at all.”

She felt herself smile. “I know.” 

Another pause. 

“Yerim’s also wondering why she’s only gone to towns so far.” 

Jungeun sighed. “You were the one who said it’d overwhelm her.” 

Choerry had developed the abilities of a seer ten or so years ago. Uncommon among the Astra, unheard with anyone who wasn’t born an Astra. Seeing the potential paths of elves, spirits, humans, and animals had completely overcome Choerry on a patrol. 

It was on that day that Jungeun had found out Chuu was a seer. Choerry had told her she needed to get Chuu. And she hadn’t told her why. 

“I know,” Chuu said. “But she’s getting better. You can’t use it as an excuse anymore.”

Jungeun fought her next sigh. She wished she could explain herself, but Chuu barely agreed with her as it was. She didn’t want to open that discussion yet. 

“And what about,” Chuu began. 

She raised a hand. “Jinsoul’s got a lot to do with Nuala. And there’s no way does she have enough left for these after.” 

“And when there’s a full moon?”

Jungeun knew what she was getting at. She knew what the unspoken question was. 

_Do you really want to keep avoiding her?_

The answer was yes. 

“I don’t want to talk about this now,” Jungeun said. 

Chuu’s eyes glittered. She got awfully talkative during patrols. Jungeun liked it. It meant Chuu trusted her enough to be open about her fears and what she saw. It also meant that Jungeun didn’t have to filter her thoughts as much. 

“Did you tell her yet?” Chuu asked. Her eyes were fixed on the forest. 

Already, just the mention of it gave Jungeun a burst of shame. Jinsoul still didn’t know that Choerry was a seer. 

“No.” It wasn’t because Jungeun didn’t trust her. She knew Jinsoul would keep the secret better than she could. 

Chuu looked both conflicted and confused. 

“Yerim doesn’t want to yet.” 

Chuu looked guilty then. “Got it.” 

And Jungeun knew she understood. Both her and Choerry were afraid of how people would look at them. Most seers were held at arm’s length. Usually. 

Jungeun fought a sigh. Getting people to accept Choerry as a seer would take years. And if Chuu had been able to keep it a secret almost her entire life, then so would they. 

“But should I start encouraging her?” Chuu asked. Jungeun gave her a look. 

She blushed. “I know, not the right person for that.”

“I’ll say.” Jungeun smiled. “She’ll be hurt that we kept it a secret for this long, but I know she’ll understand.” 

Chuu nodded, her gaze distant. They always were whenever this came up. The list of people who knew about her was small. It included her parents, but not the other two people most close to her. 

“Something happened,” Chuu began, “with Chaewon.” 

Jungeun frowned at that. “She got better?” As much as she wanted to dislike the girl, she couldn’t ignore the fact that Gowon’s light had faded the day of Hyejoo’s banishment. And both Chuu and Yves lived with that guilt, while also being rejected by people they’d once called friends. 

“No,” she said. “She just found out that the bond between them hadn’t vanished.” 

“They had a bond?” 

Chuu pursed her lips, regret flashing across her face. Still, Jungeun was flattered she was willing to talk to her this openly. She felt like she could trust her. And she could. The same for Jungeun. 

“Why didn’t you tell her?” 

“It wouldn’t have helped anyone,” Chuu said. “She would’ve tried to follow it, or make someone help her do it. And she hasn’t stopped looking at what’s left of it.” 

“She can see it?” The bond that the moon put between people was almost always only visible if the two people accepted it. Jungeun didn’t understand it. And she didn’t want to ask about it. There was the obvious reason that it was a sensitive topic, especially for Chuu, and she also didn’t want to open the subject about the person she was bound to. She wasn’t even sure if she _was_ bound to someone. And she also didn’t want to know. 

“Yes. I don’t know why either, but it started to hurt her.”

Jungeun tried to think of a reason why. She was still reeling from the fact that Gowon and Hyejoo were bonded by the light, as well as the fact that their bond was still there. She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. 

Chuu continued. “It might’ve been from her directly, but I don’t think so. It might have to do with whatever she’s doing right now. That she’s making decisions that’re taking her further away than she was.”

She had a hard time believing that. “The day we abandoned her wasn’t enough?” 

The other elf flinched. “It changed her, broke the bond, but,” she trailed off. “I don’t know. I just know it’s not good.”

“But how?” Jungeun had to press her. 

“The bond’s black,” Chuu whispered. “Starts grey, because of Chaewon’s light, but it turns black at this distance.” She held her hand half a metre away from her chest. “And it used to be grey and faded. Now it’s sharp, like glass.”

“And black,” Jungeun finished. “Do you think it could hurt both of them? Even worse?”

“Maybe,” she shrugged, “but how can we know that? No one’s ever had that.”

“No one you know,” she replied. 

Chuu’s brow furrowed. “No one’s got bonds leading somewhere else. Not even the oldest of us.” 

So no one had been bonded to a person they’d forced out. When Jungeun had first asked, Chuu had said there’d never been someone like Hyejoo before. Except Chuu was far from being the oldest elf. And Jungeun had already asked Haseul, someone who wasn’t against being critical of her people. She didn’t know about it either. 

But there were many Astra even older than her. Jungeun couldn’t shake the feeling that something had happened before. Still, they wouldn’t be solving this tonight. Or in the next years, probably. 

“At least I know what was wrong with Yerim,” Jungeun said. Choerry been getting nervous and restless. Jungeun had thought she’d just been looking over to Chuu a lot, perhaps for reassurance. It must’ve been both Chuu and Gowon. 

“She saw that too?” Chuu’s brow rose. 

“Was she not supposed to?” 

She shook her head. “It’s just,” she bit her lip, “seeing the bonds is harder. And it’s even more confusing. At first you can’t even follow them.” 

Jungeun didn’t know what to make of that. She also knew that she’d have to be careful with what she asked Choerry. If she could see the bonds, Jungeun didn’t want to accidentally find out something she didn’t want to know, or others didn’t want her knowing. 

Out here, away from the camp, with just the two of them, Jungeun saw how uncomfortable this topic actually made Chuu. She hid it well. That skill had come from years of training and fear of being discovered. It was sad how desperate she was to keep it a secret, but Jungeun understood. She just wished Chuu didn’t have to. 

So she changed the topic, not completely, but at least away from bonds. 

“Yerim’s not liking what she’s seeing,” Jungeun said. “It scares her.” And Choerry tried to hide it, but whenever she looked Jungeun’s way, her brow furrowed. She was always watching out for a change in the light. Always looking into the near future, just in case something could change. 

Chuu nodded, looking both sad and understanding. “At this point, she’ll think every little change is important.”

“And is it?” They’d touched on the subject a few times, but unless Choerry was telling Jungeun about what she was going through, the topic of the future and its workings were a complete mystery to her. She wanted to keep it that way. But if learning more about it meant she could reassure Choerry and smooth out her almost daily frowns, then she’d force herself to learn. 

“The future changes just as many times as it stays constant.” She shrugged. “I try to tell her that, but with how the spirits are getting more aggressive,” a small sigh left her, “it doesn’t help with that lesson.” 

That meant the people who were at risk of getting hurt, _did_ get hurt. Both Choerry and Chuu had said it was a change in the light, one that made them feel unsettled. Depending on what was going to happen, they either felt uneasy, or outright scared. 

“So think about stubbing my toe?” Jungeun asked. “Then decide not to a bunch of times?”

Chuu gave her a look. “Take it seriously.”

“I am.” She had the thought of ramming her foot into the next tree. She was just about to run for it when a hand closed around her arm. 

“You do that, I’ll tell Yerim the person she looks up to is a fool.”

Jungeun winked. “She knows that. Deep down.” She couldn’t help but marvel at Chuu’s reaction time. She wondered if the light flickered or if it was just a feeling that something bad was going to happen. 

Chuu nodded. Her light eyes flicked from the sky and back down to the forest. There was a furrow in her brow. 

It was then that Jungeun sensed something _off_ in the forest. She turned her attention to the space around them. There were two brighter spirits following them. And there was something else to their far left. She could never pinpoint where the spirits were, nor properly distinguish between them. They were just a feeling of cold and an absence of light. Like the range of a fire, but in reverse. 

“This way,” she said, leading to them to the left part of the forest. She summoned a sword. “Do you see a fight happening?” 

Chuu sighed. It was answer enough. 

“You watch for the second, I’ll go,” Jungeun said. 

You always had to look out for a partner. 

_Not always_ , she thought, thinking of the aggressive pale spirits. The fox that had chased Viian had also been alone. 

Pushing down those questions, Jungeun crept through the trees, heading straight for the swathe of darkness she saw. She spotted a dark red figure. Only one spirit. 

As they got closer, it turned. Had it _heard_ them? They could only see and feel. 

_Not anymore_ , she thought before summoning a rush of flames and light. It streamed towards the spirit. Jungeun threw herself after it, blade raised above her head. 

The spirit flapped its wings, flying off a small way’s away. It weaved away from the flames, but some caught its tail. That segment turned a brighter red. 

Jungeun’s sword sank into the ground. The strength of her jump caught up with her. Pain shot up her arm and she stumbled to the ground as well. 

There was a sound, as though glass were being smashed together, shrieking in the process. There was a bird call in that, but it was twisted. 

Jungeun got to her feet, using her good arm to take the blade from the earth as Chuu caught up. Either she’d dealt with the other spirit, or it wasn’t there. 

The spirit had the form of a large owl. Jungeun had to dodge as it dove towards her with a surprising display of speed. 

“Is there another?” she barked out. 

“No,” Chuu shot back. A moment later. "Let me handle it!"

Jungeun ignored her and leapt after the owl, swiping out as it tried some manoeuvre to turn around. The blade cut across its back, creating a streak of bright red. Not enough. 

The wing went back, slashing across her cheek. It was so cold it burned. The owl had slowed its movement then. Jungeun summoned a second blade and drove both into the spirit’s torso. The sound it let out neared a scream. Jungeun flinched. 

One of the swords melted into it, turning the feathers there bright red. But it still wasn’t fully turned. That should’ve been the blow that got it. 

The owl rounded on her again, going for a blow with its beak. Jungeun angled her head away, but the thing threw its entire body at her. The contact froze the skin beneath her clothes. It’d scratched her all across her front. 

Once that would’ve been impossible. Now it was their reality. 

There was a dull thud, like a heavy sack landing on the floor. The owl was thrown off of her. 

Jungeun could barely move to look at it. She felt drained now. 

The second blade had dissolved. A low hoot left it. Chuu stood over the spirit as it turned completely red. 

When the light engulfed its head, its eyes turned from black to blue. A very familiar shade. They were full of pain. 

She looked away. Although it was a coincidence, the similarities were too glaring. 

“Jungeun.” Chuu appeared above her, the staff she’d used already absorbed. “Are you alright?” 

She looked to the speaker, glad she could direct her attention somewhere else. Her face felt like ice. The owl’s talons had scraped across her abdomen, but it hadn’t pierced her. Still, her body felt freezing. 

Chuu was frowning between her and the spirit. Then the confusion was gone, replaced by concern. 

“Let’s get back.” 

Jungeun rolled her eyes. “These’re scratches.”

Chuu shook her head. “Believe me when I say we’re going home. Now.” She took out her waterskin and poured its contents over her. 

It burned. 

Jungeun hissed and shifted away. 

“It’ll help,” Chuu said. Her light eyes were hard, the edges around them tight with worry. Then she hauled her up. 

Jungeun risked a glance at the spirit. 

The owl looked at them with inquisitive eyes. Those blue eyes. The expression that shouldn’t have been there. 

She looked away again. All she could think about was Jinsoul as she spoke about putting moonlight into water, how incredible it would be to heal and energise everyone. Jungeun pushed the thoughts away. 

Instead she asked, “why does it feel like they can think?” Even before she’d come to the Astra, they’d told her that the spirits may take on the forms of animals, may show pain, but they weren’t alive. And each time Jungeun had faced one, no matter if light or dark, she’d wondered if that was true or not. 

Chuu was silent for a long moment. 

The spirit followed them, hopping as it did, hardly flapping its wings. It made sounds as it rustled along the ground. Jungeun had only just gotten used to the physical damage they could do. But this was still unexpected. 

“Because you’re paying attention,” Chuu said. A small pause. “They were always like that.” 

Jungeun glanced at her. Though her injuries hurt, though they were slowly freezing, she could still hear an edge to the other’s tone. 

And she saw a strange longing in Chuu’s eyes, joined with sadness. 

Just seeing it made Jungeun feel heavy and she wanted to ask what it meant. But that same expression stopped her. 

Chuu had already told her so much. She didn’t have to say more. 

And Jungeun was really cold. The cold didn’t spread, but it overwhelmed the rest of her that was warm. 

Her thoughts went to one person then. Their blue eyes wouldn’t be filled with curiosity, but frustration and worry. 

Jinsoul was _not_ going to be happy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought it was time for a chapter separate from both Vivi and Olivia's story, but they're both still referenced. This one was to focus in on Kim Lip and Chuu some more, as well as some more information about Choerry's character. 
> 
> In short, Jungeun and Chuu are closer than you might think. Partially for the reasons I've listed. 
> 
> As for the rest, I hope the explanations of seers was enough. They can see the future, but it's not like a proper vision. It's more a feeling they get and it's sometimes linked to a person or place. So if a person might end up getting hurt, a seer will have a 'feeling' that they will. It's like when you know a certain decision is not a good one, but you're still able to decide whether or not you do it.
> 
> I'll be exploring the fate and future more in future chapters, because it's a big part of this story for me. If it ever gets too confusing, just let me know!


	8. Best of both worlds

Jinsoul squeezed out glittering water from the cloth. It trickled down onto Jungeun’s cheek and down her neck. She pulled the dirty water away. A simple task, but she usually liked watching the water moving on its own. 

“You’re mad.” Red eyes looked up at her. They were pale. Drained.

She didn’t answer. She soaked the cloth again and repeated the process. 

“You don’t have to do this now,” Jungeun said. 

She really didn’t. The sun was slowly rising. She should’ve already been sleeping. There was a time when Jungeun would’ve already gone to bed a few hours ago. But she’d only come back now. 

Jinsoul had stayed awake, checking the state of what elixirs they did have, as well as the waterskins and how much they had. She'd almost lost ways of wasting her time. 

Then Jungeun and Chuu had come back, one of them with torn, blood-soaked clothes and dull eyes.

It had looked like Jinsoul’s nightmares had come true. Until she’d gotten closer to see that no wound had been piercing, just a scrape. Yet there was still way too much darkness and not enough light to counter it. 

Jungeun’s next word was said softly. “‘Soul.”

“I am mad.” 

Silence. 

She took the rest of the clean water and let it rise in lazy circles. She was tired and the tugging sensation at her mind was nearing a headache. 

Jungeun’s dim eyes followed it. They looked more vibrant now, but they were still a shadow compared to what they actually were. 

Jinsoul made the water cover the wound. It looked like a burn mark, but Jinsoul knew its cause had been something cold. 

The rest of it slid down Jungeun’s neck. It did soak her clothes further, but she’d already cleaned that part. And they’d have new clothes. 

She knew Jungeun was on the verge of saying something else. 

Instead of looking up, she began with the sigil. Already, the light in the water was starting to work. Only starting. It should've been working faster.

Jinsoul focused on her head, drew out light from herself, and let it flow into the water. That made her headache worse. 

“Don’t overdo it,” Jungeun muttered. “They’re just scratches.”

“ _You_ overdid it,” Jinsoul replied. She tried to keep her voice level. “A normal dose should’ve already gotten rid of most of it." And Jungeun had used up too much light, when there wasn't enough available to them. Even Vivi's revelation that the light was absorbed by everything around them still didn't mean Jungeun had unlimited amounts to use. 

“We know they pack a bigger punch,” a small shrug, “at least now you can quantify it.”

A shout rose up in her throat. Jinsoul pushed it down. “That’s not what you need to be figuring out.” She completed the sigil. The water became firm on Jungeun’s cheek. 

“I know,” a tiny smile, “but it’s one way we can look at this as being a good turn of events.”

There it was: the optimism Jinsoul could rarely stay angry at. Except for today. 

Today she just sighed. Her head hurt and she was tired. It just made the remarks frustrating. Jungeun could go on those patrols with Chuu, leave Yerim and her out of it. But she still let Jinsoul heal her if she got hurt. It made her wonder why. Did Jungeun just not want her on patrol? Or was there something else?

“Why can’t you just wait for me?” Jinsoul asked. 

Jungeun’s brow furrowed. “Wait for you?”

“Then you wouldn’t have to walk all the way over here, soaking your clothes and shivering.” _Looking like a ghost,_ she added in her head. “Chuu told me you took the spirit on by yourself.” Meaning Jungeun wasn't going with Chuu because she needed her in a fight. 

“She told you, or you made her tell you?” She glanced up. 

“Both.” Jinsoul had told Chuu to make sure Jungeun didn’t charge without thinking and she knew the girl tried. But it was hard to stop someone like Jungeun who moved like a raging fire.

“I told her to look for the second spirit, but this one was alone.”

It was the truth, she knew that. But Jungeun had gotten crafty in the last years. She’d take on the stronger of a pair or manage to take the one with the least darkness more quickly before joining you with the other one. 

No matter what happened, she always managed to expend the most light. And usually the most injuries, even if those were just scratches. 

“Let me come with you,” Jinsoul said. “We haven’t been out in weeks.” 

Jungeun opened her mouth. 

“Getting Viian doesn’t count.” 

She closed it. Her brow furrowed. “I want you there too,” she said. “But right now, when there’s not enough light for more than two spirits,” she trailed off, “and with you working like you are, it’s just not safe.”

“And it’s safe for you?” Jinsoul knew the words came out a hiss. 

Jungeun’s eyes widened at that. “Safer. Patrol’s the only thing I do. You’re doing everything you can here.” 

“Then what about when the moon’s full? When I have enough light leftover?” she asked. “What’s the excuse going to be then?”

Silence. 

Jinsoul saw Jungeun’s guilt before she felt her own pain. 

“‘Soul,” Jungeun murmured. “I’m not avoiding you.”

“It doesn’t feel like it.” 

She bit her lip. “But I mean it.” 

“Then if you’re not doing it because of that, then why?” Jinsoul asked. “Because protecting me isn’t the right answer if you’re not even protecting yourself.” 

Jungeun didn’t respond. The water on her cheek fell away, the wound now much better than it had been. Jinsoul still didn’t know how fast it would heal, especially with how the spirits were changing. What if the wounds they inflicted would last longer, even if you handled it with magic. 

No matter the case, she’d give her a healing potion tomorrow. Something about Jungeun’s injuries seemed off. She’d felt the same thing about the others she’d tended to. Even Nuala was more alert when it came to them. 

Jungeun was the first one to break the silence again. “If you get hurt, a healer _and_ a fighter get hurt,” she said. “I get hurt, it’s just a fighter.” 

Jinsoul found many things wrong with that sentence. She started to protest, but Jungeun kept going. 

“You’re the best of both worlds, I’m only in one of them.” Her eyes flicked between hers and the ground. “You're one of the best healers we have. And there’s only one person who can infuse water with light.” Now Jungeun held her gaze. “Yerim’s joining you once she figures out how to work light into the plants, but that’s still gonna take long. And Nuala’s realised that she needs you, especially now. We all need you here.” 

_But I need you_ , Jinsoul thought. She didn’t dare say it. She hated how Jungeun was right. She also hated how it matched exactly with what Jungeun did anyway. 

“But.on the full moon,” Jungeun put a hand to her shoulder, “we go. You, me, and Yerim.” 

In the back of her mind, Jinsoul was glad that Chuu wasn't included in that. She felt guilty for feeling that. 

Despite her leftover frustration, she still smiled. “Okay.” 

_____

“How about this,” Haseul clasped her hands together, “what we’re most closely tied to, or at least have been for the longest, is the easiest to call upon. Like how a sigil'll take me ages, but if I make it out of light, I get it right sooner.” 

“So you want me to call on the rock?” Vivi crossed her arms. 

She nodded. 

Vivi fought a sigh, feeling more than at a loss for what to do. Digging deep into the ground, she made a sliver of the stone liquid and brought it up. In thin grey tendrils it came. 

Haseul’s eyes were locked on it. 

She made it solidify in a block and let it fall on the ground. 

“That’s really awesome.” Haseul knelt to inspect it. 

She was about to dismiss it as the elf’s attempt to make her feel better when she saw her expression. It was pure interest. During breakfast—in the late evening, something Vivi wasn't getting used to—the elf's brow had been perpetually furrowed. Vivi had been hearing murmurs about other elves, something brief about a person called Olivia, and complaints about injuries they'd gotten days ago. All by dark spirits, despite them having all the means to heal those wounds. 

Where Haseul fit in there, Vivi didn't know yet. She also wasn't sure if she was allowed to ask or not. Haseul would probably tell her, but what would be running through the eavesdroppers' heads? They still looked at Vivi as if she were unwelcome. She was sure those looks would still be there next year. Probably longer. 

Haseul reached out tentatively, finally touching it. “It’s cold?” 

Vivi smiled. “It’s from several meters below. Of course it is.” 

“So there’s no heat added to it?” She tapped it, as if checking if it were hollow. 

“No,” she replied. “Just magic.” 

Haseul smiled. “Just magic,” she repeated. Then she straightened. “Put moonlight in it. Make it glow.” A pause. “Pull it apart first and call on something else. Think of how you’d make it stronger.” 

Vivi divided it into drops of stone. She watched them flow, their surfaces rippling in the air. She tried to dig within herself. She’d been in the moonlight night, not even sleeping. Now she was exhausted, but still felt well rested. So it was no fluke that people believed she had a tie to the moon. At least there was that. 

She found nothing. 

Haseul stepped closer, avoiding the droplets of rock. “Place your focus on the different parts of your body.” She raised a hand. “May I?”

Vivi didn’t know what she was really asking for. She still nodded. 

Warm fingers touched the center of her chest. “Only pay attention to where my hand is.” 

It must’ve looked bizarre from afar, but if this worked, Vivi wouldn’t let herself think too much of it. 

Haseul smelled like a forest after rain. Her breathing was easy, and her gaze gentle, only on Vivi’s eyes. 

It was slightly unnerving. 

“Focus on my hand,” she repeated. 

Vivi did. She only felt the warmth from the hand. Otherwise nothing. 

Then Haseul placed a hand on her shoulder. Nothing 

Her other shoulder. Nothing. 

Her stomach. Nothing. 

Arms. Nothing. 

Hands. Nothing. 

Knees. Nothing. 

Feet. Nothing. 

Vivi laughed. “What’s next? My nose?” 

Haseul straightened. “Actually your waist." She smiled back at her and even gave her a wink. “But maybe.” She placed her hand on Vivi’s forehead. 

There was a tingling sensation. One that yearned to reach for Haseul’s hand. It quelled the frustration that had been building. It settled Vivi’s previously quickened heart. It felt wonderful.

“Oh,” Vivi let out a content sigh, “and how has that escaped my notice?” 

Haseul grinned. “You have to become aware of it. Like your heartbeat, breathing, or blinking.” She brushed a thumb across Vivi’s eyebrow. The skin tingled underneath it. “Now direct it at the other part of you. The one holding the rock.” 

Vivi pulled at it. Slowly, it moved, like lugging a piece of stone with one’s arms. Vivi had trained for that too, having ample material to test her strength with. She pulled, her muscles definitely undertrained. 

Slowly, it gave. Vivi pushed it to the stone. Then pulled the droplets together. That was easy. Very much like blinking. 

Haseul turned around and laughed. “Yes!” 

Vivi redirected her attention from the very happy elf and to the stone. The grey glittered where it hadn’t before, with veins of light coursing through it. 

“Can I try something else?” Haseul pulled her hand away and stood just beside her. 

Their shoulders brushed together. 

“Try it,” Vivi said. 

The rock lifted shakily. 

“Wow,” Haseul breathed out, “that’s strange.” 

“You’re lifting the light part of it?” 

She nodded. “But there’s resistance. A lot of it.” 

“Stone's heavy,” Vivi finished.

Haseul snorted. “Yep.” 

The moonlight-infused rock fell.

The elf went over and picked it up. “Lighter than pure rock,” she looked slightly strained, “but still heavy.” 

Vivi took it from her. She was right. She tossed it between her hands. 

Haseul’s brow was raised as she looked at her. “Show off.” 

She smiled. “It’s training. My magic doesn’t give me even more strength.” Even with supernatural strength, a large chunk of rock wasn't something you lifted without some muscle. 

“So you practiced lifting rocks? With your hands?” 

“Moonlight is, well, light. Easy to swing hard. Rock is rock,” Vivi explained. 

“True,” Haseul nodded, “but the combination might be even better than both.” 

“You think so?” 

“Wolves are beasts,” she said, her green eyes darkening. “Moonlight bothers them, but most attacks are merely splinters for them. And there're spirits that can properly hurt, as you saw.” She shrugged. “So a stronger blow to either would be more effective than the pure light.” She raised a slim dagger of light. 

“Is that why you put elementals on the outside?” Vivi asked. 

“Not officially,” Haseul replied. “To actually say the light is weaker to vampires and such is quite close to blasphemy.”

“And if someone gets killed because they believed in that?”

Her eyes turned sad. “That’s why we have to acknowledge it in the first place.” 

Something in her voice uncovered a deep pain in Vivi. It wasn't hers, but felt for this person she barely knew. Haseul was a leader. While others might not respect her, let alone like her, they acknowledged that fact. Many had been taught by Haseul, despite her not being so experienced. What mistakes had she made? Or what mistakes did she _think_ she’d made? 

“Well,” Haseul smiled, “I’d call this a successful session.” The corners of her mouth trembled, as though forcing the smile was taking a toll on her muscles. 

“You want me to do something else,” Vivi said. She could see it. She’d also try it if that took Haseul’s mind from whatever dark place she was in. 

“Maybe.” Her eyes regained their sparkle. Maybe that was another thing about her. She was resilient to her pain. “My plan was getting you doing precision work so you can make something like this.” She twirled her dagger. It had grooves in the handle and a serrated edge. Precision. “But I think it’ll be enough if you can do that with a dagger of stone, but there’s light in the blade.”

“Sounds very simple,” Vivi grumbled. “It took me very long to be precise with stone.” 

“So you’ll know the steps you have to take.” Haseul winked. “But I’m just here to teach you the ways of the Astra,” a serene expression appeared, “patience, discipline, and bigotry.”

She let out a laugh. “You’re good with all but the third one.” 

The smile that earned her was as bright as the moon itself. It was like the first time she’d heard Haseul's voice. Her eyes focused in on it fully, almost completely ignoring the woods around them. 

They kept up the training. It involved getting Vivi to make a blade out of stone and light. It took long, but Haseul never got impatient. She only made small jokes here and there with a glow to her that wasn’t a result of the moonlight. Vivi found herself enjoying the day—or night—the longer it went on. She was disappointed when she finally figured it out and they went back to the camp. Compared to what had come before and what was probably going to come after, it'd been a good day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, I'll be having Olivia's perspective, but I really wanted to spend a little more time in the camp itself. First there was Lipsoul, as I wanted to show a bit more of their dynamic between each other. And then Viseul, because they're currently the more 'laidback' of the different characters. I also love them both very much (this applies to all of them, but I think you know what I mean). They also have no history with each other, unlike the rest. 


	9. Changed

_Let me come with you._

How Jungeun wished she could’ve said yes. She only really ever saw Jinsoul when she got back from patrol. The other elf always worked until then. And she was always there if Jungeun ever got hurt. A part of her wondered if Jinsoul waited to see if she was needed or not. She sometimes was.

And they usually never ate together either, so each time they did see each other, both of them were too tired to really say anything. 

Except for yesterday. They’d spoken more than they had in weeks. And it'd been a conversation Jungeun had wanted to avoid more than anything. 

Jungeun heard rustling then. She let fire course across her fingers, her other hand ready to summon moonlight, but she had to use that sparingly. She still felt drained since the last injury, but a day and a half had passed since then. The spirits really were leaving lasting marks on them.

Between the leaves, Jungeun saw red. It wasn’t a dark spirit, nor an aggressive light one or else it would’ve attacked by now. More rustling. 

The owl hopped out then. It looked up at her with those strange blue eyes. It recognised her. 

“Hi?” Jungeun frowned. This one had left her side on the way back to camp. Spirits didn’t have memories, but whatever recognition they did have of the person who turned them faded after a few hours. 

And this one had come to her more than a day later. 

She kept walking, one eye on the spirit. It followed, flapping its wings now and then. 

Her next idea might’ve been laughed at by everyone at home, but she held out a tiny chunk of moonlight. 

The owl looked at it for a long moment. Then it took the piece with its beak. Jungeun felt its warmth as it did so. It was warmer than most bright spirits who usually had a good balance between warm and cold. 

And to her surprise, the owl ate it. It hooted once. There was a flicker of light that went down its gullet. Then it went to its wings, the tips of its feathers properly sparkling. 

Jungeun could only stare. The spirits remembering, _eating_. She’d already had an awakening when she realised that spirits felt pain. That’d been when she’d first been chosen by the moon and that‘d been years ago. 

“Nothing on my side,” Chuu said. “But we—“ She cut off when she saw the spirit. “I knew there’d been something weird about that one.” 

The owl hooted again. It looked at Chuu. There was curiosity in its eyes. 

“You knew a spirit can remember things?” Jungeun turned to her. “It even eats!”

Chuu raised a brow. “You’re not afraid of it, are you?”

“No.” She looked back at it. “Just a little.”

The other elf knelt down in front of it, tilting her head as she did. “It’s connected to you. Not in that way, but a little bit.” She smiled slightly. 

Jungeun was lost at how easily this came out of Chuu’s mouth. As if it were so natural that a spirit was acting more like an animal than ever before. If the others heard about this, they’d laugh at her, as they had in the beginning, and tell her she was imagining things. 

And then she remembered when she’d first turned the owl. When she’d wondered aloud about how it felt like the spirits could think. 

“The spirits,” Jungeun began, “you said they’ve always been like this?” This as in sentient, unnervingly so. 

Chuu shrugged. “There were a few times when I think it proved that.” Her eyes had a degree of hesitance. She also hadn’t talked about this a lot. “And it’s not just that every hunt involves us causing them seconds of a lot of pain. They actually make judgements about us, like the way this one trusts you.” 

She frowned. “Then why does everyone think they’re mindless?”

“Not everyone,” Chuu replied. “We just don’t think much into it. We turn the spirits, but if they linger, we just think they’re attracted to the light, and then if they’re in pain, we just know it’s because the light’s destroying the darkness.”

“Did you ever,” Jungeun wanted to be careful with how she asked this, “ _see_ something with them? Something else?”

“Well,” Chuu began. She pursed her lips. “When I was little, I’d run off, following a trail. It was one of the first ones I’d seen.”

The trails left by the moon, the ones that showed where you were going to step next. Those sometimes changed, but not always. 

“I found a dark spirit and turned it,” she said. “And after that day it always came to me when I was alone.” The longing in her eyes came around. Had that spirit become something close to a companion at the time? When Chuu had felt the most scared of her abilities?

“What did it look like?” 

“It had dark eyes, a bit like cherry wood,” Chuu replied. “And it’s skin was a paler red, but even at that time, I knew it wasn’t pink.” A pause. Her eyes grew more distracted. “I didn’t know what animal it was. Only when I went to the north once did I learn where it might’ve come from.” She then put her arms out to her sides and waddled. “Walked like this.”

“They’re called penguins.” Jungeun laughed. “But how did it get all the way here?”

She shook her head. “I’ve no idea. My feeling’s that it came here _because_ of the way it was tied to me.” Then she sighed. “But I haven’t seen it since my sight got stronger.” 

“Could you find it if you wanted to?” Jungeun asked. The spirits didn’t exactly disappear, but their light faded over time. That usually took a long time. Again, no one knew why. Maybe Viian would figure it out. Or they’d ask an emotional fairy. They were the only others who could actually turn a spirit. 

“I think it’s been turned,” Chuu muttered. “Twenty years after it disappeared, I felt something sting here.” She tapped a hand to her heart. “And then nothing after that.” Her eyes turned sad. 

“But if you’re tied together,” she took her hand, “then who’s to say you won’t stumble across it again?”

It earned her a smile. “I’m always hoping I will. I liked her.”

“Her?” Jungeun repeated. 

Chuu nodded at the owl. It was still following them. “After a while, you start to pick up on things. For me it was just a feeling. Like how she was actually understanding what I was saying.” 

Jungeun's brow rose. “So that one theory where they’re what’s left of a person.”

She shrugged. “Might actually be true.” 

Jungeun didn’t respond. She needed some time to process that. The spirits might’ve technically been having their own thoughts and feelings. They understood more than people gave them credit for. 

“We’re far enough for this,” Chuu said. They were still holding hands. Jungeun was glad. “The western _Crosa_ had to deal with calming down a group of men.” 

Jungeun didn’t reply. One encounter with spirits might’ve been the most monumental piece of a mortal’s life, but for them, especially Chuu, it was trivial. There was something else to this one. 

“It was a wolf and a dog. Both bright spirits.”

“And they attacked.” So this really was spreading. Spirits who would’ve normally avoided mortals and _never_ attacked were now aggressive. And all that meant was that more patrols were needed. But they couldn’t somewhere so far away. They didn’t even speak the language. “So we’re bringing light over?” 

Did they even have enough for that? 

“That,” Chuu nodded, “but it’s not why they told us.”

Jungeun waited for the elaboration. There was no need to rush her. And she liked the time Chuu took to form her thoughts. She was also sure the other girl preferred it as well. 

“A pale girl in black turned them dark,” she said. “And they didn’t attack.”

“Hyejoo?” Jungeun turned to her fully. “In the west.”

“That week, the places where they stored valuables, gems and metals, were raided and another house stormed. By humans.” Chuu frowned. “And apparently those were on papers stolen on the day of the attack.” 

And it sank in. Theft. Again. In the beginning, Jungeun had gone to towns further away from theirs. Asking after a dark haired girl hadn’t brought much, not in this area where it was the norm. It was only when she’d found her way to taverns that she’d heard mortals raving about a thief going around.

No one knew who they were, only that they stole food. Two weeks after she’d heard the first accounts, there’d been bright spirits attacking. All of them had been turned to benevolent dark spirits by a slim figure wrapped in darkness. Sometimes it parted to reveal her features, but those who had seen her had been too terrified to remember much. Hyejoo hadn’t had control over it then. 

And then those accounts had faded into stories told to excite newcomers. The theft of food had turned into this dark figure claiming the secrets of a house and their children. It depended on who told it. 

The more Jungeun had gone around, the more the stories seemed to worsen. There seemed to be glimmers of truth, but they didn’t say anything Jungeun or the others had wanted to hear. Hyejoo only came to the towns to steal, not to fight humans.

The last story she’d heard had been of a minor battle between influential mortals. Towards the end of it, when the sun had fallen away, the soldiers had reported the sound of shrieking animals. Both sides had followed the sounds. Two of them had died, their eyes black. 

The implication of it terrified Jungeun. 

But nothing like it had ever come again. If there had been anything related to Hyejoo, it was because of brighter spirits being turned dark. Not in the country they called Korea, but in other ones on this landmass. Occasionally, a girl wielding blades of black had gone against guards or groups of soldiers. None had died, but before their memories had been erased, they’d been near traumatised by what they'd seen. But even then, sometimes it wasn't a girl, sometimes it was more. 

Jungeun, and sometimes Jinsoul, had tried to keep all mentions of it away from the other Astra, but some had seeped through. And they’d only encouraged the elves about their decision. They were suddenly _happy_ that they’d forced Hyejoo out. 

“Hey.” Chuu’s voice was soft. She used their linked hands to pull them both to a stop. “That’s all they had to say from their end.” She squeezed her hand. 

“But we’ll have to start preparing,” Jungeun said. That just meant putting aside chunks of moonlight, amassing a good amount of it, before a group of them would take it over. That group usually included Jungeun. She didn’t mind the travel process. 

Chuu nodded, a furrow in her brow. “And we need enough for us.” 

With the amount of injuries they were getting, not having enough moonlight could be dangerous. That just meant they’d all have to work even harder, maybe even cut the amount of people doing patrols. Which meant double shifts. 

“Did they tell _you_?” Jungeun asked. "About Hyejoo?"

She shook her head. “Freya told Eline. She told me.” 

Jungeun was slightly surprised that the elder would’ve told Chuu. Then again, they'd probably developed a trusting relationship over the years. And as seers went, Eline wasn’t intrusive, nor was she ruthless in what truths she told. Still didn't mean Jungeun liked her. 

This just meant that the rest would know it too. And there’d be murmurs about _Olivia_. Viian would pick up on it too. And telling that story would be painful. Jungeun didn’t want Haseul to have to do that, but she also didn’t want to do it herself. And if Heejin or Yeojin told it, Jungeun wasn’t sure if Viian would see Chuu or the others the same again. Had she even met the three? 

Jungeun shook her head. She wasn’t thinking about that now. Instead, she tugged on Chuu’s hand so that they kept walking. Then she let go and summoned a sword. She needed to find a spirit to turn. She needed a spirit. She needed the fight.  
______

The woman studied her. She must've been what the mortals called 'middle-aged', with faint folds in the skin around her eyes and mouth. She carried herself with the typical posture of a noble. She hadn't given a name. When Olivia had first started doing more illicit jobs for the mortals, she'd learned how important those names could be. If they were known by the wrong people, the mortal would be punished for whatever act they had done.

Even though she'd spent a good amount of time in the mortal world before, Olivia still didn't know how their society worked. Still, she'd learned even more in the last few decades. 

“You’re younger than I’d thought you’d be,” the lady said. She'd not given her name. When she'd first started out 

Olivia didn’t even bother to correct her. She only watched her. This was a woman who'd wanted to hire someone to kill another. She was someone who couldn't bring herself to do it. She was also someone who'd been wronged. They had that in common. 

On the table between them, a fragile thing, lay a dagger and a paper.

“If you’re the one I think you are,” she lifted the piece of paper, “then you’ll be able to reach him with little resistance.”

Olivia didn't as about what she thought she knew. She knew it wasn't what _she'd_ done, but what others like her had.

“And do what?” The words had a rasp to them. She'd learned that her voice scared people. To her, it was just a voice that had faded with time. 

The woman looked at her, an eyebrow raised. “You’re not going to tell me you’re above killing a man?” Darkness curled around her as she spoke. There was both that of ruthlessness and that of hatred. 

Olivia hadn't always been able to see that until she'd met Alluin. In that group, she'd first sensed immortal darkness that wasn't her own. That'd somehow given her more sensitivity to that in mortals. She barely knew why or how it was supposed to work, only that she saw it.

But now she wanted to hear those words from the woman. To hear how easily the thought came to her mind. And how the darkness would respond to it. 

Olivia wondered where _she_ fell now. She'd lived many more lifetimes than this woman. A time when she should have become a person better than the one she was now. And yet she’d gotten worse. Had Olivia been a better person, she would've turned around now. She would've said no the moment Alluin had offered it to her. She hadn’t. 

“No.” The human's lip curled upwards. “His name and where he resides are on here.” She placed the sketch back onto the table. "And his face." The darkness grew. 

Olivia walked to the table, watching as the human drew away. Afraid. She took the paper and the knife. 

“Why this?” Olivia unsheathed it, watching for the woman’s reaction.

She flinched. 

“You’ll leave it there.” Another surge of darkness. 

She narrowed her eyes. “Who's being framed?”

The woman’s brow rose a fraction. “I don’t think you’re in a position to ask such a thing.”

Olivia closed the distance between them and pressed the blade to her throat. “Am I not?”

Her eyes widened. “You won’t have your payment.” She was alarmed, but not terrified. She was sure Olivia wouldn't do it. 

She was right. 

“You’ll tell me the reason,” Olivia said. “You’ll explain what your plan is and why I shouldn’t kill you for ordering the death of another.” She lowered the knife. The woman hadn’t called for help when she could have. How much did she know about her? Did she know her guards wouldn’t be of much use? What _were_ the stories? Olivia had never wanted to hear them. She’d never wanted to relive them. 

The woman, a child if she were to compare their actual ages, put a hand to her throat. She looked at her with something close to fury, but it was smothered by fear. 

“He’s of fourth senior rank,” she spat. She spoke of the target, not the one she was framing. “And my sister was married to him.” 

“And he had her killed?” 

“She couldn’t give him children.” Her voice was hardly a whisper. “He cast her out.” 

Olivia froze. She thought of loneliness, as well as the quiet outrage that followed. Sometimes it wasn't so quiet. 

“They tell me she’s dead, but there hasn’t been word.” A pause. “Years I’ve waited.” 

She hoped for something that would never come. That took its toll. 

“If there was a body, few might’ve recognised it.” 

The woman scowled. “You don’t think I know that?” A lighter form of the darkness rose: the anger that came from pain. 

“You don’t believe it,” Olivia replied. “Who am I framing?”

She waved a hand. “A supervisor of the area. One who gambles all he can away. Not one would be surprised.” 

She didn’t believe it. There were also Alluin’s words to consider. “I won’t frame another. You want me to do your work, then they’ll know it was me.” She set the blade on the table. It was a beautiful piece. She wondered how the woman had gotten it. Was she even trying to frame someone?

Or was it simply an attempt at something else? Would there be a proper investigation? Possibly. The mortals had strange hierarchies and rules. 

The woman stepped forward, but even that was hesitant. She'd heard enough of the rumours before the witness' minds had been erased. “You cannot deny what I’m asking you.”

“I have.”

This woman didn't know what it actually meant to kill someone in the way Olivia was being asked to do. She barely understood it herself. Alluin had explained to her that a blade of darkness had to be used and left there, not absorbed again. That led to the person being overwhelmed by it. Much like those Olivia had seen in the past—the ones who'd been killed by the spirits they'd fought. 

Her mouth opened and then closed. “Then you won’t have your money.”

“And this man won’t die.” Olivia’s words sounded distant to her ears. She could feel the shadows gravitating towards her, lending her more strength. They were only drawn to her, because she spoke of death so casually. 

The woman stiffened. She looked up at her, eyes still hardened by anger. Even so, fear was bleeding into that mask. 

Olivia realised then that she was drawing on the human's shadow. That never felt _right_. Olivia occasionally had that effect on mortals and other elves. It was always the one she had on animals and the shadows of inanimate objects. 

“It’s a political move,” she said. “One that could benefit my husband.” 

The callousness of it wasn’t surprising, considering what Olivia had learned of their politics. They achieved their goals by using carefully crafted words and actions. Certain actions could only be made with money or using another person, often employed through money. Words and actions had also been important among the Astra, especially with other elves and the fae, but Olivia had always been kept apart from those encounters. Unless they were fights. 

“Don't explain.” Olivia knew she wouldn’t have been able to understand it. “I’ll take the knife.” She wouldn’t use it for the murder. She’d sell it. 

As she took up the knife, the woman seemed to relax. And then she looked at the space around Olivia. Her eyes widened, her calm expression vanishing.

The human left, though her footsteps had a hurried edge to them. Outside, her guards followed. She hadn't wanted them to come in. Olivia wondered if she'd regretted that decision as the meeting went on. 

She looked at the paper. They'd given her his prominent features: bald, thin lips, and thin spectacles. There were the directions of where he lived, as well as his name. She’d have to ask the people there to tell her of the general area. Then she’d go. 

As she left, Olivia’s hands started to shake. She was in Korea again. She was going to go past the place she’d once called home. And she was going to kill someone. 

_Someone who deserves it_ , she thought. _He turned away someone. Left them to die._

When she got into the forest, hands were still shaking. The shadows had collected around her. They were starting to crawl onto her. 

_______

Yves watched as Chaewon’s hand drifted to her chest. Her brow furrowed. 

“More pain?” she asked.

It was never been hard to figure out that Chaewon and Hyejoo had been connected through the light. Before everything had happened, she’d seen just how compatible they were. While Hyejoo hadn’t been able to use moonlight, she’d been getting a hand at combat. She’d learned the human language Korean well enough to get mortal money together. Once she'd had the right amount, she'd bought weapons of metal. On hunts, Chaewon had covered them with moonlight so that Olivia could tackle one of the spirits, buying them all time until one of them incapacitated it. 

Those blades were always on Chaewon’s bed now, hidden beneath the furs. She’d kept them in the same condition they’d been since Hyejoo was banished. She’d gotten what she needed from the same place Hyejoo had gotten them, using broken Korean to find out how to do it herself.

Both Yves and Jiwoo knew about them, but Chaewon was still secretive about them. She always cared for them when she thought they were asleep. In the late morning, Yves would hear the light clinking of the swords in their scabbards as she got up and left the tent. 

In the beginning, she’d followed and what she'd seen had broken her heart even further. Chaewon had been polishing one blade with a cloth, handling it with more care than she did moonlight. The sunlight had done little to hide the tears streaming down her face.

Yves had known well enough not to go to her, nor offer to help. And both she and Jiwoo knew that Chaewon sometimes held them close to her when she couldn’t fall asleep. Neither of them ever commented on those blades nor spoke to her in those moments. Those were the moments Chaewon needed for herself.

It was only when she came to them, or faltered when she saw one of the benevolent dark spirits, that they’d properly show that they were there for her. That hadn’t been happening as often, but it didn’t mean that Chaewon had stopped missing her. 

And now this. 

“It doesn’t hurt,” Chaewon replied. “It just feels strange, like something’s twisting.” 

_And might snap_ , Yves thought. She was scared for both of them. For Hyejoo, for what she might be doing that had led to this. What would the decisions she was making do to her? And what would happen to Chaewon if she lost that bond? It wasn’t just that they didn’t know what the magic would do to her, but they also didn’t know how it would affect Chaewon emotionally.

And now that she knew that the bond hadn’t faded between her and Hyejoo hadn't vanished completely, what happened if she lost it again, and for good? 

Hyejoo wasn’t going to come back to them. All three of them knew that. Chaewon wasn’t cleaning the blades, waiting for Hyejoo to return and get them. She was cleaning them because they’d been all she had left. 

“You don’t have to reassure me,” Chaewon muttered. “So let’s move on.” 

Yves could only nod. Chaewon’s maturity had come from guilt and loss, not time. She hated that this had caused her usual dry humour to fade, returning only when it was the three of them and rarely when they were around others. She hated that she couldn’t fully reach the girl. 

The two of them ate in silence. A way’s away, Yves heard Yeojin’s deep voice as she recounted an embarrassing first attempt at controlling moonlight. Probably telling that to the newcomer to ease her doubts. 

In spite of herself, Yves smiled. She would’ve given much to be able to sit at that fire again. To add to that story with Yeojin’s first attempts. Yves and Haseul had split up their lessons for her, Choerry, and Chaewon. 

But those times were well in the past, hidden by the anger and resentment of the rest. 

She wouldn’t be welcomed at that fire. Neither would Chaewon. 

The Astra were a large enough group that neither of them ever had to sit alone. When Heejin wasn’t with them, Priad’s group was actually theirs as well. Yves was well aware that most didn’t understand why Heejin hated the three of them. And they were foolish because of it. They barely even recognised that Heejin resented them as well, because they’d also voted against Hyejoo staying. 

Something lightened in Yves then. She knew the reason why well enough to know where to look and what to expect. The light of the person was always so bright. It could be felt from far away. And it always made her feel better. 

Jiwoo and Jungeun emerged moments later. They were talking about something, both with bright eyes. An easier patrol today. Good.

Then Jiwoo laughed. Even from where she sat, Yves could hear it. 

Should Yves have been happy to hear it? Yes. 

Jiwoo was smiling and laughing genuinely. Her eyes were crinkling exactly right. 

How often had Yves tried everything in her power to make that smile appear? She’d usually succeeded, but she’d had to try. 

Jungeun needed to only make a snide remark or throw a disbelieving look somewhere to get that smile. It was easy. 

And it had become like that ever since Jiwoo started to go on patrols. It was a decision that’d baffled others, so much so that they’d come to Yves to ask why. She hadn’t known, so she’d just said that Jiwoo had had ideas for how to improve the routes and durations of patrol. That’d made people happy. 

Until Jiwoo’s time on patrol had become something she’d done for a year, then two, and so on. She still came on hunts, but less frequently. And she’d started talking to Choerry more, something Yves thought was impossible, considering how deeply affected the purple-eyed girl had been by Hyejoo’s banishment. 

So many things in need of explanation. So many things where Yves had only gotten a few reasons. And then Jungeun and Jiwoo had resumed their friendship from before. 

All this, the laughter and mended relationships, should’ve made Yves happy. 

But all that was spoiled by her jealousy. 

She knew exactly how pathetic that was. That didn’t mean those feelings stopped. 

Even so, she looked away. 

“See you tomorrow,” Jungeun said. Her voice sounded gentle. 

“Yeah,” Jiwoo’s voice was also soft, “see you.” 

Yves could feel the shyness there. And she didn’t like how that made her feel. She also hated the fact that she felt that way. Especially when she had no right to it. 

When she glanced up, she caught Chaewon looking at her. There was a teasing edge there. In spite of how their conversations had devolved, Yves found herself smiling back as she blushed. 

In what felt like ages, Jiwoo finally came over to their fire. 

“How’d it go?” Yves managed to ask. She passed her a plate. Before a hunt, they always used actual cutlery. The less light they used now, the better. 

Jiwoo took a helping of the grilled fish. “Better than before. We actually fought together instead of Jungeun just handling it all.”

It was only for a moment, but Yves caught Jiwoo looking at the space in front of Chaewon. It was almost imperceptible, but she frowned.

“What changed?” Chaewon had brightened. The furrow in her brow was gone. 

“I think the healer at the time laid into her strategy,” Jiwoo replied. “And she did get hurt on the last one, so it stuck with her.” Then the smile faded a touch. “How's Elre?”

Yves shook her head. “Getting worse.” And the elf had gotten hurt weeks ago. It was a bad blow, one that had gotten her in the side of her chest. Maeral, another healer, had been speculating about why to Priad's group: the spirit's darkness had seeped in close to her. He’d talked about it a little too loudly and now people were even more worried. 

Jiwoo’s smile was gone. This was the expression Yves was used to seeing now. “Is it weakness or just pain?” 

“Both,” Chaewon said. “Nuala went around to get more light from each of us. It helped with the pain, but she still can’t walk for long enough.”

“Should I?” Jiwoo made to stand. 

Yves reached out to stop her, but the girl jumped before her hand even reached her.

“Sorry.” Yves pulled back her hand. It wasn’t the first time this'd happened. Jiwoo’s peripheral vision had always been incredible. “But if you want to come on the hunt today, you’ll not be spending any more light until then.”

Especially when the moon was only just becoming a proper crescent. It might’ve been better to tell Jiwoo to sit today’s hunt out, but Yves never liked it when their group of three was made even more incomplete. It unsettled those who left, while the ones who stayed behind were nervous for the entire time. Here, she’d just have to make sure that it was Chaewon and her who used the most light. 

Jiwoo held her gaze for a moment too long. Yves felt the same lightness that she had earlier. 

Then the other girl nodded and sat back down. “I wish we knew how to handle this better.” She looked at her plate. She hadn’t taken a bite yet. “And with the rest wanting us to give them some, we’ll have even less if more are getting hurt, or just need enough light to stop the pain.” With each word, she spoke more quickly, hardly stopping to breathe. 

“If the same things are happening out there, they’ll need it more than we do,” Yves said softly. Then she tapped the side of her plate. “Now eat.”

The corner of her lip tugged up. Jiwoo started eating, but the worry still remained on her features. 

It was one Yves understood well, but there wasn’t much they could do. Nuala, Jinsoul and the others responsible for healing had been scrambling to figure out what to do. With the dark spirits, both the 'normal' kind and the more powerful ones, the only solution was light. A lot of it. With some it helped immediately, with others it took some time. In the worst cases, the darkness ate away at the light still left in the person. The darkness always made a person succumb to either anger, sadness, or fear. If the darkness didn’t get taken away soon enough, they died with blackened eyes and frozen skin. 

Yves pushed those images away. Almost all wounds inflicted by darkness weren’t severe, because they were almost always able to turn the spirits fast enough. And if they were severe, they were almost always able to heal them. 

“Now you’re the one thinking too hard,” Jiwoo muttered between bites. 

Yves chuckled. “Yes.” She’d been thinking a lot. More than she had before. Was that how the years had shaped her? 

“You’re right,” Jiwoo said. “About the light being needed elsewhere. It’s just,” she bit her lip, “I’m not sure if we’re prepared for this.”

“No one is,” Chaewon replied. “Not even the seers can tell.” 

Jiwoo’s eyes shot to her. “You think so?” 

“They’ve been looking at everyone more often, probably trying to find what they’ve overlooked.” Chaewon shrugged. “Definitely doesn’t help keeping us calm, but no one says anything.”

Out of habit, Yves looked around for eavesdroppers. One person had glanced over then. Choerry. She looked away the moment Yves met her gaze. It sent a pang of guilt through her chest. 

Yves looked away before anyone else caught her looking. She didn't need another glare sent her way. Or someone else asking her to come eat with them. 

Jiwoo’s own eyes were on the fire. The deeper shades of orange complimented her peach-coloured eyes. She looked distant again. “Shouldn’t we start telling everyone _not_ to go after the other spirits?”

Other spirits didn’t mean the aggressive bright ones. It meant the dark spirits that didn’t attack. Very few actually stopped to differentiate between them. The moment you made the first blow, the once friendly spirit did end up attacking. 

Now especially, they had to be careful with their words. One always did if surrounded by ears like an elf’s. 

Yves shook her head. 

At the same time, Chaewon said, “they won’t listen.” 

Because the spirits were dark. For that reason alone, they were convinced that the spirits would be overcome with the darkness of the malevolent spirits. Even the seers believed that, because they couldn’t see a brightness in the path the spirit was going to take. It was that same logic that Yves had once believed. And her shortsightedness had led her to making one of the worst mistakes in her life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A three-parter to explore the different 'camps' of the story, save for Vivi's because that was in the last chapter. First we've got the more immediate reactions to Olivia, as well as the initial stages of her exile. There's also the current developments with the spirits where you've got four types: the 'good'/'bad' bright spirits and the 'good'/'bad' dark ones. And of course, a bit of development for Hyewon (though they're still very much separate), a slight bit of Chuulip, and a first for Chuuves. 
> 
> On the other side, we've got Olivia's current journey and the way it's affecting both her and Gowon. I hope you're liking how fate ties into this. I haven't ever gone too deeply into destiny and/or fate, but here it plays a big role. It's also in line with how I tend to think of fate: based on our decisions, our path can change. Certain decisisions won't change that path, but others can. For me, it's a flexible timeline. 


	10. Silver

Olivia watched as the guards sat down around a fire. They were far too relaxed. There wasn’t the slightest inkling that their employer was in danger tonight. 

She’d be making her presence known, but she'd do that another way. She’d not fight these men. Not this time. 

As she went along the edges of the road, darkness crept onto her skin, coating the edges of her arms. She felt it on her face. It caressed her skin, as if it knew what she intended to do. Was it encouraging? Or trying to pull her back? She only knew that it made her feel stronger. 

The moon was out as well. Olivia risked a glance at it. It was a half-moon. Waxing. What light did reach her stung. 

Anger rose up her throat. She shrank away. She didn’t like that she was acting underneath its light. And yet, it was also a reminder that what happened today would be its fault. It had left her with darkness and shadows. 

She climbed the wall, catching word of the conversation. They spoke of new rumours among the class above their employer. They spoke of being unsettled when they went home, that they felt watched. They spoke of beautiful men and women coming to the towns, drinking and laughing in their taverns. 

The last part unsettled her more. The Astra were still in this area—country. Shouldn’t they have left by now? Who was ruling against it? 

Olivia shook her head, dropping down from the wall, her feet almost soundless. Not one word from the guards had grown hesitant. They were wholly focused on their chatter. It was all that kept them engaged during such a long and uneventful night. 

When their negligence was revealed, would they be relived from duty? Would they be punished as the mortals did to criminals? Would they be executed? No, carelessness wasn’t usually awarded with death. There was the chance they’d be put into a cage.

The thought let her summon a blade of darkness with ease. She looked at the house. It was one of the long and wide ones of wood. Only one story. Unless she wanted a view, there would be no further climbing. 

There was light in the house, but little enough that Olivia could still sneak as she wanted to. 

The point was to draw attention, but she went to where she heard no footsteps, nor soft breathing. Digging her knife into the wood of the house was simple. It gave way easily, rotting as the blade sank further. She cut her entry into the house and pulled the half-rotted piece of wood away. All so easy. 

She thought of someone who’d be horrified of the sight. Several others joined that list. She tried not to think of their faces. She tried to push pale green eyes out of her thoughts. She failed.

The darkness had spread further across her skin. Half of her face might have been covered. She wasn’t sure. She didn't know what she looked like, probably fresh from a nightmare. She pushed that from her mind as well. 

Olivia thought instead of the target. She thought of the crude drawing and the descriptions of his habits. He slept late, spending much of the night drinking in his study, either working or simply thinking. 

She crept down the hall, feet making rustling noises across the floor. Was it made of straw? Or a different sort of cloth?

There were no guards in the house. It was both too small for that and, as the guards outside proved, thought to be unnecessary. She grimaced at how false the statement was. 

Olivia opened one door. Behind it was bedroom. The one in the bed was a young girl. The next held a boy who couldn’t have been older than twenty, if even that. The next room held a woman, but the bed was larger. The space beside her was untouched. So the information that he slept late was correct. Either the woman paid someone for the information or she had known him better than she’d let on.

In the back of her mind, Olivia thought of the boy's age. If the previous woman hadn't been able to give him children, then this man had found another at least two decades earlier. Was Olivia avenging someone who'd died years ago? No wonder there had been so much anger in that human. The outrage and hatred had festered. Olivia knew those feelings well. She knew how they ate away at a person. 

It took some tries to find the study. Some of the staff seemed to live here. Some slept restlessly, but all slept. Once again, it was easy. 

Then, finally, a way’s away from the chamber with his wife, Olivia found the study. She slid open the door, darkness still surrounding her. She saw him in deep thought, a half-full glass in his hands. The room smelled of smoke. It was something she’d seen once before in a land farther away. It seemed such men were more similar than she’d thought.

She stepped inside and closed the door. He glanced up and his eyes widened. 

Olivia summoned a black coil and wrapped it around his mouth. He let out a muffled yell and stood. 

She strode over, took the weak blows of his fists and yanked his arms behind his back.

She took hold of his shadow then and watched him stiffen. The feeling was unsettling, she knew that. How it would feel to those who had never truly known how prominent their shadow was, she didn’t know. 

“Scream and I’ll not hesitate.” Olivia let a long and thin knife appear in the air in front of him. Its point then inched towards the base of his neck. “Will you scream?” With purposefully louder steps, she went around to look him in the eye. 

It was a pathetic sight in front of her. His legs were immobile, he trembled, and his eyes were locked on the weapon in front of him. 

“Will you scream?” Olivia repeated. 

He shook his head. Once, twice, three times. 

She took away the darkness around his mouth. 

“What do you want?” he spluttered. It was loud, but not a scream. 

Already, she felt the darkness wrapping around her heart. It was a gentle embrace. It felt as if it was urging her to speak. 

“I was sent to kill you.” 

A sound very close to a whimper escaped him. He looked at her with new eyes now. More terrified than before. “Why?”

Should she give him justification? Ask if he had actually done what the woman had told her? She hadn’t stopped to wonder if she had lied or not. But she wouldn’t know if he was lying either. 

“Someone wants you dead,” Olivia said. She could’ve described the woman. She could have told him the reasons. But that would open her to hearing his insistence that he was innocent. She would hate to hear him beg. And she would hate even more to hear desperate excuses or lies. 

“Who?”

Shaking her head, she took hold of the blade, pulling it away from the position on his neck. She pressed the point to his heart.

She realised two things then. Pulling it away had been easy. As had bringing it back. Would pressing it down be even easier?

The grip of the darkness tightened over her heart. Its cold grip had spread to her hand, as if to give her strength. 

“Please,” he said. “Whatever you are, whoever sent you, please don’t do it.” 

Olivia waited for him to list his reasons. She waited for him to offer her more money. She waited for him to tell her that he had a family, a wife who would sleep alone in a bed for years, children who would go to bed without their father to say goodnight to. 

She didn’t hear any of it. She only saw his eyes looking at her with a silent plea. 

He didn’t need to say it. Olivia knew his children would miss him. She knew how much they’d miss him. It didn’t matter that they’d known him only briefly, and wouldn’t remember much of their childhood. It didn’t matter that they wouldn’t live as long as she did. None of it mattered, because they’d live those lives without a father to guide and love them. 

Maybe he was responsible for the death of another. Maybe he was the reason for other deaths as well. Maybe his death was justified and the woman who’d hired her would have a peace of mind, knowing that her sister had been avenged. So many things may have been true. And all it took was for one action to be made. 

Olivia took the blade away. The darkness didn't disappear, but its grip on her softened. It helped her drop her arm. 

He looked at it, then at her. Dread was still in his eyes. He expected it to be a trick. 

Olivia absorbed the darkness, knowing it would seep into her fingers and coat them in black. It had the potential to leak into his nightmares as well. 

“Just because I’m not going to do it,” Olivia slowly released her hold on his shadow, “doesn’t mean you’re free of danger.” She turned away and left the room. Only then did she fully release his shadow. Amazingly, she didn’t hear him bellow for his guards. 

Olivia found the place she’d cut into the house and slipped out of it. Hiding in the shadows, she left the grounds. 

This was a failure. She knew Alluin and the rest would see it as such. What would the cost be? Would they force her to fulfil a kill, while someone threatened her own life? She didn’t know. And she wouldn’t go back to find that out. 

She was in a country whose language she knew. Where she went next depended on who else was here. If the Astra were still there, she’d go the other way. But she longed to at least see the woods she’d grown up in. She’d longed to go home and while she didn’t want to see the people there, she wanted something _familiar_. 

Some of the silver she had with her lined the insides of her clothes, while more lay on the bottom of her pack. It would let her buy what she needed to when she needed it. 

And when it ran out, she’d find another way to get her money. She’d steal again. She knew that much. Would she try something else? Work with a mortal in return for payment? Honest work this time. Their demands of her would pale in comparison to what she’d already been asked to do. 

Olivia reached a crop of trees, a good way’s away from that house. The moment she crossed the threshold, she felt tears start to form. 

She was leaving again. She wasn’t leaving anyone she’d miss, but she was leaving without being forced out. 

She looked down at her hands to find them steady. At least there was that. 

Olivia closed her eyes, searching for those like her or spirits that hunted her. She found nothing. She was alone. 

She didn’t have to leave. She could rescue the burning ties to her current life by turning around. She’d still have a place if she just did what she’d been asked to do. There would be a tent waiting for her. 

_And money,_ Olivia thought _._

Getting money and a place to stay hadn’t been difficult before. She’d stolen to get those things. How different would killing be? 

_Very different_. 

Her mind brought thoughts of what else she’d done. Had she _needed_ to do that? Had she _needed_ to steal? 

Olivia shook her head. Questioning her own morality would get her nowhere. It was frayed, but not lost. She hadn't killed that man. She could cling to the remnants of her morality now. 

As she walked in the direction of home, she saw the moon peeking through the leaves above her. Anger didn’t wash over her at the sight of it. She just felt tired. 

Even so, as she walked on, something was different. The moonlight wasn’t burning her skin. 

______

Beside her, Chaewon stiffened. 

“What?” Chuu asked. She saw the air in front of the girl brighten. The light went away from her like a hand reaching out. Then it snapped back to the girl. 

Chaewon frowned. “I just,” she placed a hand to her chest, “something's changed?”

Chuu watched the light pull away from her again. It coated the black shards that left her chest. The remnants of the bond. 

Her frown deepened. “Did she do something else?” 

Sooyoung glanced at Chuu, her eyes questioning. Exactly the look Chuu didn’t want to see directed at her. She looked as if she knew Chuu was seeing more than she did. "Is it painful?”

Chaewon shook her head. “I can’t describe it, but it feels,” she trailed off. “It feels better.” 

Chuu watched as the light seeped about a metre across the broken bond. It was still in pieces, but a part of it was silver. It wasn’t grey, nor was it black, but silver. A part of it _glowed_. There was still darkness, but that didn't make Chuu feel unsettled. It only reminded her of the person on the other side of the bond. It only made her miss her more. 

Immediately, Chuu wanted to tell her. Chaewon didn’t look like she’d been able to see it. What if Chuu’s news would finally bring a smile to her face? Hope to her eyes? 

She pushed the urge down. She couldn’t say it now. And if nothing came of it, what would she have done then? Given someone false hope? Chuu wouldn’t be able to stomach the disappointment. Hers she could handle, but not Chaewon. 

Still, this was something. Chuu looked at the forest floor. There was a clearer path. Chuu knew it led to a town, not the closest one, nor even the one across that. But it led to mortals. And Hyejoo. 

“So did she do something good?” Chaewon asked. “Or _not_ do something?” Her fingers traced over her heart. The hope was already in her eyes. 

“I don’t know,” Chuu said. “But it has to be better than before. If it doesn’t hurt.” 

Chaewon shook her head. She was focused on the space in front of her. She could see it now too. “Silver,” she murmured. Her eyes were wide. “Like her eyes." 

Sooyoung and Chuu exchanged glances. Neither of them knew what that meant. Hyejoo’s eyes had been mostly black, but sometimes they’d held light. Like their own crystal-like eyes. 

“The light I always saw in them,” Chaewon continued. “It wasn’t white, it was always silver.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't sure where exactly this chapter would fall, but recent events made it clear that it should be here. My writing often includes themes that I'm familiar with or ones I'm just really fascinated with. Other times I write about topics/subjects that I want explored, if only to offer a different perspective on them. This chapter was always coming, but I wanted to have it here as a reminder that life is valuable. It is also something we cannot think of as simple or fleeting, because it is anything but. We must also be very much aware of the power we can sometimes have in the lives of another.
> 
> That's why this chapter was focused on the decision made not to kill, even if there had been a reason to. Shadows can follow us on paths we know aren't right (or ones we still believe are, but don't know are the wrong ones), but they can still slowly fall away depending on decisions and circumstance. 
> 
> While this chapter was on the shorter side, I hope it still feels like enough. I may not have written this as a direct response to recent events and it hardly tackles the subject itself, I did write this to establish that mercy and kindness are some of the most valuable things we have in life. There's more to that list, but I don't think I need to list them today. 


	11. Darkness

Fifty Years Ago 

_“I’m scared, Chaewon.” Hyejoo sank down to her knees. The cold wracked her body. It was the worst in her chest. Each breath she took brought in more cold._

_Chaewon followed. “You’re still the same.” Just her being near helped to quell some of the cold. Hyejoo was afraid she'd take too much._

_She shook her head. “You don’t know what happens in my head. Nothing can be the same there.”_

_“So tell me.”_

_An arm went around Hyejoo’s shoulders and she was pulled to someone’s chest._

_“Do you want to?”_

_Hyejoo shook her head. “It’s dark.” She tried to pull away. “It’ll seep out to you.” As she spoke, she could feel the cold rise up her throat._

_Chaewon didn’t let her go. “We can share it.”_

_“I can’t,” she said. “What if you can’t bear it?”_

_“And what if you can’t?” Chaewon asked. “If you’re overcome by the darkness, I won’t be able to follow. Before then, I can help.”_

_Before then. Another reminder that it_ would _happen. That this was the path the moon had chosen for her. A path with no light, one that seemed to go even further with each passing second._

_Hyejoo just shook her head. “One person to handle it is enough.”_

_The arms around her tightened. “You’re sounding like a fairy again.”_

_“Here their cruel ideals are correct,” Hyejoo tried to pull away again, “and this burden fell upon me, not you.” She put her hands on Chaewon's arms and carefully pushed them away. In that moment, the cold surged to her hands, trying to seep out towards the other girl. Hyejoo forced it down, but it still came. She wrenched her hands away. If anything about Chaewon was corrupted, she'd never forgive herself._

_Chaewon caught her hand. The touch burned. “No, I can’t let you hold onto it by yourself.” Her bright eyes shone. They pleaded with her to listen._

_The cold slipped from her grasp. It wrenched away from Hyejoo and towards Chaewon. “Let go.”_

_Then she lost it. Darkness clouded her vision, much of it coalescing around the girl in front of her._

_In the same moment, she heard Chaewon hiss, clutching her chest with the other hand. Hyejoo felt pain in her eyes and heart then. Only faintly._

_She tore away her hand and ran off._

_She didn't know for how long she ran. But when the darkness encircled her heart fully, she had to come to a stop. She looked at the hand that Chaewon had held._

_Darkness streamed from her fingertips. In the back of her mind, she thought it looked beautiful. The rest of her was horrified._

_It couldn’t be happening. She'd lived her entire life without anything. Why was magic coming to her now? How could the moon give her darkness now? Why did the darkness feel so terrible?_

_Her hand hurt now. That pain spread, as though her blood was piercing all along her body._

_When it reached her eyes and mind, Hyejoo gasped. An ache spread over her head. Only then did she know why she felt pain. It hurt because something was leaving her. Was it her soul? The light?_

_It didn’t stop growing. Her legs gave out. She screamed._

_That only encouraged the pain. Black curled around her vision. Even the moon darkened. The stars had disappeared. The screaming did not stop._

_Hyejoo woke to bound hands and feet. The bindings stung._

_She hissed, her throat irritated by the sound._

_Her entire body felt heavier, as though stone lined her skin. No, the heaviness went deeper. It reached into her blood, her muscles, even her bones._

_It didn’t sting. There was only an ache._

_She could still move, but her body protested each attempt to do so. A part of her wanted to let go, either to sleep or to sink into that ache. She wondered what would happen if she did. Would she fall away to darkness completely? She almost didn’t mind. As long as this feeling would go._

_It was so bright around her. She could barely open her eyes and when she did, she recoiled. The movement made her wrists and ankles sting._

_She let out a cry._

_The restraints had cut her skin. Who had placed them there? And why did it hurt?_

_Hyejoo forced herself to open her eyes. She kept them open, despite the light making her head scream in protest. This had happened before. Whenever she’d had to get up during the day, either to go to town or some other patrol. The sun had always burned her more easily than the rest. And it’d always blinded her. Was the darkness the reason for that? Had she always had it within her?_

_Her eyes adjusted. She was surrounded by white. Moonlight. Behind it was grey. It took several moments until she realised it was the sky. It was mid-day and the sun still illuminated the clouds brightly. Thick white lines crossed over one another, stretching around her completely._

_It was then that Hyejoo realised it was a cage._

_She craned her head to look at her feet. Her hands had been bound at her back. Around her ankles were a mix of white chains. The skin beneath them was black. It wasn’t burnt, but bloodied. Her blood was not red. It was black._

_This was the will of the moon? On her? It shouldn’t have been, but it was. Her suspicions had been confirmed._

_Whoever had bound her also knew very well what had happened. They would’ve known the light hurt her. And they’d bound her hands and feet in it._

_A spike of fear filled her. Would the bars contract on her? Would the cage become her tomb? Or would she be banished? She hardly knew which was worse._

_Hyejoo shifted, the restraints grazing across her skin. She hissed. The moonlight burned like hot metal._

_“Don’t move,” a voice said, pleading._

_Hyejoo lifted her eyes. She saw deep green between the bars. Not the eyes she wanted to see, but the sight still comforted her._

_“Here,” Haseul held out a piece of watermelon, “I took out the light from all of it.”_

_“Should you be feeding me?” Hyejoo asked._

_Haseul didn’t respond, only held the food closer to her mouth._

_It was humiliating, but she opened her mouth. Now she was eating out of someone’s hand. Even so, it was wonderfully sweet and helped ease the painful dryness of her throat._

_“I don’t know what they’re going to decide,” Haseul said. “But from what I heard,” she trailed off. She gave her more watermelon._

_“I’m an abomination?” Hyejoo suggested between swallows. “Monster? Curse?” She felt like it. The darkness escaping her fingertips. It had looked so wrong. Had she still emitted darkness when they’d found her?_

_“Don’t say that,” the other’s voice shook, “you’re not any of those things.”_

_“You don’t feel what I do,” Hyejoo replied. “Being in here sickens me. I’m burned by what’s sacred.” She swallowed, trying to remove the growing lump in her throat. “Even the humans know to call that evil.”_

_And she’d never had light before. This was the reason why. The darkness was meant to come to her. Had the seers known that? Or had it been a quick turn of Hyejoo's fate to be left in darkness?_

_Haseul passed her a sliced piece of cooked meat. Now that she’d had the fruit, the meat could be properly enjoyed. “I’ve known you too long to even think of believing that.” She gave her another. “The rest have to remember who you are.”_

_Hyejoo thought of Chaewon’s words._

You’re still the same.

_She doubted that Chaewon still thought that. She remembered the brief moment of realisation. She remembered seeing the horror in bright green eyes._

_“Will there be a vote?” It would be unanimous either way: she no longer belonged. Would she die at their hand? Or be forced to spend the rest of her life apart from them? Which was better?_

_Haseul’s eyes sparkled with hope. “There must be. And they’ll see.”_

_“This won't be like before,” Hyejoo said. “There’s no chance of the light coming to me. It's gone.” And if they had difficulty accepting other elves being chosen by the moon, there was little chance of them allowing one rejected by it to stay._

_Haseul did not respond. She held out the last piece of meat._

_Hyejoo ate it. The sickness had subsided somewhat. Had the darkness taken the food she’d had in her stomach before, leaving her exhausted and hungry? Or—_

_“Have I been here long?”_

_Haseul nodded. “Five days.” She looked at her lap. “You were between waking and sleeping. They tightened the restraints when that happened. You screamed.” Her eyes slipped to the bars._

_Five days. That explained how ruined her ankles and wrists were. It also explained the terrible hunger and thirst._

_“Did this contain it?” She nodded at the cage._

_Another nod._

_“Good,” Hyejoo said. “And no one’s been hurt?” She thought of Gowon. She’d been the closest when the darkness had taken hold. And it'd tried to attack her._

_Guilt bubbled up her throat. Maybe it wasn’t so terrible that she was bound. If she couldn’t control the darkness, how could they trust her not to hurt another?_

_“No,” Haseul said. “Most of it stayed within you or fell away.”_

_“So we don’t have to worry about that.”_

_Haseul gave her a look. “I’m still worrying about you, I hope you are too.”_

_“I’ll try.” Hyejoo almost smiled. “Thank you for the food,” she said. “But you should go. They’ll talk if you don’t leave soon.” And the older elf was almost always on shaky ground with the other elves._

_Haseul shook her head. “Let them.”_

_“Don’t say that,” Hyejoo said. “You’re still here, I won't be. They’ll remember this.”_

_“Let them,” she repeated. “I’m staying with you.”_

_It made some of the cold subside, hearing Haseul talk like this, but it was still wrong. Hyejoo was now completely apart from the Astra. Haseul wasn’t._

_“Please, Seul,” she said. “The last thing I want is for you to be hurt by helping me. What if they’re right? What if I am dangerous?”_

_“The only reason we can control light is because we’re taught," Haseul replied. "I'll teach you to control it."_

_“No,” Hyejoo shook her head, “just go. They’re already starting to look.” She saw their frowns. She could almost hear their judgement. “You'll be leader some day. You leave now and they’ll still respect you.”_

_Haseul shook her head. Tears built up in her emerald eyes. She reached out through the bars and cupped Hyejoo’s cheek. Her skin was so much warmer than should have been normal, but it didn't burn._

_Hyejoo moved so she could face her fully. The cage didn’t let her straighten. And it burned to get closer to it. It burned for her limbs to rub against the restraints, but she got closer to the bars. Tears trickled down her face. Haseul wiped them away._

_“You have to go,” Hyejoo said. “Please. You won't be able to convince enough, just keep out of it.”_

_There were few who she respected more. And Haseul always did what was right. She’d welcomed Jinsoul, Jungeun, and Choerry like they were one of them, even when no one else had. Once she became older, once she was accepted as having a prominent role, she could keep doing that. Hyejoo just wouldn't be there to see it._

_That was when she spotted someone coming over._

_“I brought water,” Yeojin showed the animal skin, “without light.” She smiled weakly, eyes full of worry._

_“Both of you must go,” Hyejoo said. “They'll know I’m awake. They’ll reach a decision soon. None of you can be associated with this.”_

_Yeojin’s smile vanished. “Why not?” The confusion there was painful to see._

_Haseul looked pained. “Hyejoo,” she started._

_“Go,” she told her, "please."_

_“Why?” Yeojin looked between them. “What’s wrong with us helping her?”_

_The green-eyed girl’s eyes grew teary. “Later, Yeojin,” she said. She looked to Hyejoo. “We’ll protect you however we can. All of us will.”_

_Hyejoo wanted to tell them not to, but she knew neither would. “Alright,” she let her head go to the ground, “see you then.” Thankfully, there was no moonlight on the soil._

_Haseul gripped Yeojin’s shoulders._

_“The water?" Yeojin was saying, "she needs something to drink." Her eyes flicked between Hyejoo and Haseul. She shouldn’t have come. She shouldn’t have to see this._

_Her throat was dry, but the fruit had helped somewhat. She had her immortality to thank for that._

_The thought gave her pause. Her questions returned. What was going to happen now? Would they put an end to forever? Or force her to leave?_

_Haseul murmured reassurances and other words that Hyejoo didn’t bother listening to. They walked off._

_Out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone looking at the cage. She knew who it was._

_The girl never came. A part of Hyejoo knew that if she came closer, that would be the wrong decision. The rest of her wanted to call out to her. She needed to see her again. She needed to know she was alright._

_Chaewon walked on before she could speak._

________

_Haseul shivered. The darkness around Hyejoo had made the air freezing. Her skin had been like ice._

_And yet Haseul could only think of how worn Hyejoo had looked. Her eyes were darker than they’d ever been, swallowing all light rather than reflecting it as they’d used to. Her skin was a dull white. Her hair had also become more like the night sky, but without the stars. And then across her face had been lines of black. From what little Haseul knew about the internal layout of a body, the lines had followed some of the routes blood took around the body. The change had come so quickly. And drastically._

_And now she was alone, held captive by her own people._

_It'd torn her apart to see Hyejoo that way, bound and bloody._

_They’d gathered them around in the amphitheatre, but it’d been filled with dirt. They stood in a large circle, all on equal footing. Nothing was in the centre, except for the elders, including Freya, Nuala, Eline, and Yuol._

_Haseul looked around for the people who should’ve been as good as family for Hyejoo._

_Yves, Chuu and Gowon had huddled together. Too far away, but she could still see that their expressions were grim. This was the first time she’d seen any of them since Olivia had been brought back in chains of moonlight, her flesh burning beneath it._

_Beside her, Yeojin trembled. Jungeun held one of her hands and Haseul the other. She could barely see Choerry, but she saw that one of her fists was clenched. Jungeun and Jinsoul both scowled at the elders. It wasn’t the ideal expression. They hadn’t been here long enough for their hostility to be overlooked. Then again, it was nothing compared to the person on Haseul’s other side._

_Heejin’s hands shook and her expression hardly concealed her rage. She said nothing, but her eyes gave way to a multitude of curses._

_Haseul debated whether or not she should reach out to steady her hands. It would both give the girl some comfort and to remind her that she was still glaring at an elder._

_Then someone else took hold of Heejin’s hand. Haseul knew it was Hyunjin. The trembling stopped somewhat._

_Haseul took her other hand. Heejin’s skin was warm. Was there the possibility she’d lash out and use her moonlight to attack an elder? She’d get a very similar treatment to what Olivia would face. Not for everyone to see as it was now, nor with as much pain, but the prospect of banishment was great. Even if she was on the path to become an elder._

_Haseul squeezed her hand once, hoping it would pass on the comfort, as well as a warning._

_None of them spoke. If any one of them said something, the keen ears of their neighbours would hear it. Each one who heard would remember. Perhaps it would bring them no consequence, but there was the chance. That also depended on the outcome of today. No matter what stepping in would mean, Haseul wouldn’t let that be death._

_Then Freya raised her arms and screams pierced the air._

_Haseul tensed, as did the girls around her. Yeojin looked up at her, horror in her eyes. Haseul was reminded of how young she still was. She still didn’t fully know how their people sometimes acted. She didn’t know what they were capable of. Haseul hoped desperately she wouldn’t see them turn on one of their own. Though it might’ve been too late for that._

_The screams subsided to smaller cries as Hyejoo was lowered to the ground in front of Freya. Though the circle was large, Haseul could still see her well. Hyejoo’s face held streaks of black blood. Darkness curled off of her like smoke. There was a faint crackling noise. Perhaps the meeting of light and dark?_

_“A darkness wielder,” Freya called. “Turned yesterday when she encountered the purity of another.” She held out one hand, beckoning._

_Gowon stepped forward then._

She’d _been the one to find her? To turn her over to the elders? She must not have known the consequences. Or else she’d have told Hyejoo to run or hidden her until she was able to._

_“Tell them what you told me.” Eline’s voice was warm. Haseul didn’t buy the kindness for a second, not while Hyejoo still shook in her cage. She knew it was a dangerous train of thought to have._

_Hyejoo had fallen silent. She’d lifted her head to look at Gowon. Did she look at her with hope or fear?_

_“The darkness had been building within her,” Gowon said. “It ate away at her, but she didn't know what it was, only that it was wrong. She didn’t want anyone to get—“_

_“She was hiding it,” Freya finished. “She knew how terrible it was and it led to this.” She waved a hand at the cage and the bars dissolved._

_Hyejoo looked so small on the grass, her arms and legs still bound._

_And then, the girl shifted so that she was on her knees and not lying down. Her hair looked like it was smoking. Even here, her eyes looked far too dark. They’d once glittered. Her shoulders were straight, not slumped. There was still some of her stoicism in place. Haseul felt a flicker of pride then._

_“And then what happened?”_

_“The air turned cold,” Gowon said. “I could feel it suck away the warmth.”_

_“It?” Yuol said. “Don’t you mean that she did it?”_

_“It was the darkness,” Gowon replied. Her voice was steady. “And then that same darkness started to come out of her hands.”_

_“Didn’t she hurt you?” Nuala asked._

_“It was the darkness,” Gowon repeated. “It made my chest cold, then it stung.” The words were shaky. Scared. Did it still hurt?_

_“A breaking point reached,” Freya said. “She couldn’t control it.” She pointed. “She cannot do so either now. That is why we need the restraints.”_

_“Thank you for telling us again,” Nuala murmured, but they could still hear her._

_The small blonde elf went back to Yves and Chuu. The taller of the three put an arm around her. The people around her sent her sympathetic smiles._

_Haseul didn’t know what to think. Had Gowon been put up to this? Her words didn’t outright condemn Hyejoo, but they didn’t paint her well either. Gowon wasn’t an idiot. She had to know how her words were being twisted. She’d shown no reaction to it. She hadn’t tried to stop a misunderstanding._

_“We observed something frightening when we found her,” Freya said. “Dark spirits had approached her. They hadn’t attacked her, almost as if they'd wanted to help.”_

_The reaction were murmurs. Most were horrified._

_Haseul was just confused. If malevolent spirits didn't attack Hyejoo, while they would a vampire, what was that supposed to suggest? Vampires were born from the night and far more capable of evil than her. This didn’t mean that Hyejoo was to be punished for her abilities. It just meant they knew less than they thought they did._

_“So we wanted to, and forgive the inquiry, see something. With you all.” Yuol took out a pouch. It was pale blue. Filled with moon dust. Treated with the juice of blueberries. He was going to call on a spirit._

_He proceeded to empty it over Hyejoo. The dark haired elf hissed, recoiling._

_Then a force yanked her back and she fell back to the ground. She got her knees again. Even from here, Haseul could see the tears. They were the only thing that shone on Hyejoo, save for her restraints. And there was still so much dark blood across her skin._

_To those blinded by their beliefs or pride, she looked like a nightmare. To those who could truly see her, Hyejoo was only a girl. She was scared and in pain._

_Two spirits appeared, one having leapt over Chuu’s head. They paid no mind to the other elves. They only charged forward, straight for Hyejoo. Both were bright spirits._

_Haseul let out a cry and stepped forward. It was Heejin’s turn to restrain her. Even Yeojin had tightened her grip on Haseul's hand._

_Moon dust did not do this. One didn’t make benevolent spirits feral if you added meat or flowers to the mix. It was impossible._

_And yet, a horrific scene unfolded in front of them. And Haseul could only watch._

_The first spirit, a bird, launched itself at Hyejoo’s head. She jerked away. Then the second, a lynx, reached them. It sunk its teeth into Hyejoo’s side._

_She shrieked and writhed away. Her feet kicked out, but the spirit didn't move away._

_“Stop!” Jinsoul shouted. “What do you prove with this?” She strode forward, but a wall of light stopped her. From one of the other elders._

_Jungeun and Choerry scrambled to help her up. Jungeun’s red eyes were filled with anger. The air warmed, but no flames appeared._

_No one else responded. No one moved to help. Haseul was frozen to the spot, watching harmless spirits attack Hyejoo._

_She urged herself to move, but couldn’t._

_Hyejoo scrambled away as best she could. She whimpered. Neither spirit stopped its assault. There was more black blood. They watched it fall ot the grass. They were causing her physical harm. That should’ve also been impossible._

_Then the world around them darkened. Haseul felt the air cool and the hairs rise up her neck. A sweet scent reached her nose, like that of a fruit. The feeling she got from it was wrong. It was a heaviness that settled over her chest._

_She watched as the lynx whined. Then it sank its teeth into Hyejoo’s side. She screamed._

_The unthinkable happened then. The pale green lynx began to darken, turning a leaf-green colour. It began at its mouth, before spreading through its body like water soaking into soil._

_The lynx released Hyejoo and sat down on its haunches, looking at her. Its form was dark green. Its eyes were yellow._

_Several people started shouting. Some stepped forward, long swords and staffs of moonlight materialising._

_The same had happened to the bird. Instead of white, it was now dark grey, almost black. It had landed on the ground, also motionless. Both spirits behaved like normal animals when calm. Both looked at Hyejoo._

_The elders looked at the spirits, having retreated to the edges of the circle. Freya’s golden eyes were wide. Eline’s weren’t. Of course, the seer would’ve expected this._

_The shouting rose. There were shouts that Hyejoo was a monster, that she was cursed._

_All while Hyejoo still lay on the ground, covered in blood. Haseul could hear her gasps of pain and the beginnings of sobs._

_“They’re not attacking,” Yeojin whispered. “They’re not dangerous.”_

_And yet, no one else had realised that._

_The first strode forward: three men and two women. They sent swathes of moonlight at the lynx. It hissed and sprang away. Those in its path scattered and it disappeared into the trees. The bird had already gone. No one else had been hurt._

_Hyejoo still lay on the floor, her breaths shaky, coming in only short bursts._

_“Our suspicions were true,” Freya called over the commotion. “She can transform the light to dark. Perhaps not of her own volition, but the evidence is undeniable.”_

_“She has no place here!” someone bellowed. One of their main hunters. Hyejoo had helped him several times over the years, learning much of what she had from him. She’d devoted even more time to it when it’d been clear that she couldn’t control the light._

_“She cannot stay.” Freya nodded._

_“It’s a danger to leave her alive,” another elder said, Lyriil. Even from here, Haseul saw the contempt in his eyes. “She will reverse all the work we have done.”_

_“There is no light left in her,” Eline added. “And I see no light on her path.” The words held finality, because who would doubt the word of a seer?_

_Haseul had heard enough. She let go of Yeojin’s hand and yanked hers away from Heejin’s. “Did you not all see what happened?” She walked into the circle. “The spirits didn’t attack any of us when they turned. And when you attacked, they didn’t retaliate.” A spirit didn’t have a survival instinct. If it was malevolent, it only wanted to corrupt. Neither was true here. Neither spirit been a threat. Hyejoo wasn't one either._

_“And you have the answer for why?” Freya asked, a hard edge to her eyes. “It changed from pure to dark. Their previous forms hadn’t attacked any of us, only her. They had deemed_ her _a threat.”_

_“A threat because she was made bait,” Haseul said. She looked to Yuol then, her old trainer. He’d also taught Hyejoo._

_He held her gaze, but didn't respond._

_“And what will stop her from enraging the spirits when near? What if she’s in a group and her very presence causes the pure to attack?” Nuala stepped forward. “She’d be a danger to whoever is near her.”_

_“And we don't know how or why she does this to those spirits, do we?” Freya levelled a stern gaze at her. “Or do you have the answer to that as well? Can you say that those spirits are no danger to us?"_

_Haseul had no answer for that. And they knew it._

_Someone grabbed her shoulder. Surprisingly, it wasn’t her father, but Heejin. Her eyes sent her the very same warning Haseul had tried to give her before. To speak more would be to antagonise herself. But what if she could say the right thing? Convince the rest not to condemn Hyejoo?_

_Haseul let herself be dragged back. From where she was, she saw that Hyejoo trembled. She still emitted darkness. And she was still bleeding._

_As the two of them returned to the edges of the circle, Haseul met Yeojin’s eyes. She looked up at her, several tears having fallen now. Haseul wiped each of them away. She could hardly bear to see the horror in Yeojin’s eyes before. Now she saw anger mixed in with it. Yeojin would never forget this day. None of them would._

_When she turned back, she saw that Hyejoo was pushing herself back up to her knees. She was half hunched over, but upright. Perhaps the wounds inflicted didn’t go as deep as a normal animal’s could. With her black blood, she seemed to be more sunken into the darkness. She looked up, her expression unreadable. Her stubbornness remained. She still had the strength to look at those who were ready to abandon her._

_“It’s very clear to me that we have a division in opinion,” Freya said. “So there are two options. Either we allow her to stay or not.”_

_“Those in favour of staying?” Yuol asked._

_Haseul raised her hand high. As did Heejin, Hyunjin, Yeojin, Choerry, Jinsoul, and Jungeun. They were the only ones._

_Haseul whipped her head to where the others were. Chuu, Yves, and Gowon had kept their hands down. Their faces were angled towards the ground._

_Her chest constricted. Three votes wouldn’t have made a difference. The reaction of the rest had told her that much. But those votes could’ve shown Hyejoo that she wasn’t alone. Haseul had thought they were a given. Those she’d thought were less likely had raised their hands with little to no hesitation. Even those who hadn’t known Olivia for long enough to love her as they did. These three had been with Hyejoo her whole life._

_“And those who wish her gone?”_

_Haseul watched the hands rise. She watched as the three who should have been Olivia’s closest friends raised their hands as well._

_She didn’t feel rage then. That would come later. The sight only made her heart sink further._

_Haseul looked to the grey sky then, hoping to stop her tears from falling. Would the sky weep for Hyejoo or turn away from her as well?_

_“The there are two choices still,” Freya continued. “Exile or death.”_

_“That’s an option?” Heejin’s voice resonated around the silent group. “We fight wars with those who’d want us enslaved or dead and we’d kill one of our own? Because we think she might do something later?” Her words were steady, but Haseul saw the outrage._

_“She will bring nothing good,” Eline said._

_The voice of a man joined her. Heejin’s father. “She is young. The corruption has not reached her mind. She would not hurt us.”_

_Others voiced their agreement, including Haseul’s family. While they would cast Hyejoo out, they, at the very least, wanted to keep her alive._

_“Those who wish exile?”_

_Haseul fought further tears, ones of frustration. Now it had become the better option to exile someone. To send her into a world she hardly knew, alone and abandoned._

_Haseul raised her hand. Most of those around her raised their hands._

_She looked to the three. They too had raised their hands. At least they would not see her dead._

_But weren’t they condemning her to it anyway? Hyejoo had only just been exposed to her magic. She didn’t know how to conjure a weapon. She didn’t know how to turn the spirits into forms that didn’t attack her. She didn’t know how to control her magic._

_“So it is exile,” Freya said. “It will happen when the moon is in the north.”_

_Where it would shine the brightest tonight. As if they needed to prove to the moon they had carried out its will._

_That meant they were assuming the moon wanted a people to cast out a girl. Because instead of light, Hyejoo had gotten darkness._

_Haseul turned away. When she should have protected her, she’d been rooted to the spot. When she should have spoken up for her, Haseul had been unable to answer simple questions. When she’d tried to help, she’d failed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I debated on when to show what happened to Olivia. With all that's currently happening in her story, I thought it was best to show you now. There's still something I've yet to show you for the aftermath, but I'm saving that. 
> 
> It's truly terrible what happened, but there is more to support the views of the elders and other elves. Not enough to pardon them, because I personally don't think you can with all that happened. Nevertheless, I wanted to show you what event is following all but one character. It's something Vivi still has yet to find out, but that moment is coming. 


	12. Stone

Haseul moved with grace, eyes closed as her sword swept through the air. She called it a warm-up, but to Vivi it looked more like a dance. 

“Is it like this when you use stone?” she asked. 

“In a fight, stone just chips off from the blade,” Vivi replied. “I usually used a club.” 

Her eyes opened. “To bash people’s heads in?” 

“To make them turn the other way,” Vivi replied. _Usually_ , she added in her head. “People can handle swords, a stone club is another thing.” 

“But can you fight with it?” 

Just the question brought memories to mind. Those were memories Vivi didn't want in her mind. And though she might trust Haseul more than any other elf, she didn't trust her enough for that. 

So she brought up the rock from the ground. “I have.” 

Haseul didn't smile, her eyes filling with understanding. Vivi realised then that she also didn't know any of the elf's stories. 

“You don’t want to duel with this.” Vivi looked at the stone. “I never had a sparring partner unless it was hollow.” She let some of it flow back into the earth. Even if Haseul turned out to be the best fighter she’d ever seen, she didn’t want to land a blow that would actually hurt. 

“Not here,” Haseul said. “Just don’t aim for the head.” She lurched forward, grabbing Vivi’s wrist in the next second. She was hauled to her feet in the next moment. The elf was surprisingly strong. 

Vivi caught herself. “Bones may be broken.” 

“I’ve got light to heal up,” she winked, “but that’s assuming you’ll land a hit.” She waved her blade. “Come on.” 

There was something about her smile and the way her eyes glittered. There wasn't the gentle warmth like when Haseul taught Vivi about utilising moonlight. This was something else: a challenge. Haseul thought they’d be on equal footing. Maybe they would be, maybe not. Vivi realised she wanted to find out. 

She smiled back and swung first. Her club went for the upper part of Haseul’s legs. 

The elf jumped back and Vivi made the ground beneath her rise. 

Haseul laughed as she lost her balance. In the same moment, something hit Vivi in the gut, knocking her back as well. It was warm. 

Vivi got to her feet, but Haseul had righted herself faster. She leapt over the uneven ground, sweeping her own club of white in a lazy arc.

Vivi ducked, while aiming another blow at Haseul’s legs. This one landed. 

And then an elbow drove into her back. The force of it drove her down. 

Vivi’s face hit the dirt. “You could barely lift a slab of stone.” And she'd quite literally floored her. 

Haseul let her. “You were already close enough.” She waggled her brow. “You’re taking long to recover.” 

Vivi snorted and swung, making the stone rise from the ground to extend onto the club. This time it caught Haseul in the side. 

She dropped the club and lunged. 

Haseul stumbled, but evaded her grasp. She landed a small jab on Vivi’s ribs, but it hurt.

 _Bony hands,_ she thought. 

Vivi tripped her, forcing her down as she did. Haseul’s centre of gravity wasn’t as strong. Still, she was quick. 

Then Vivi was shoved back, almost exactly onto her feet again. Suddenly being upright caught her off guard. 

She saw Haseul getting to her feet. Again. And she made the stone rise in front of her, forming a wall. 

There was the sound of impact and a curse. 

“I’m,” Haseul gasped, “not sure if that’s fair.” A groan of pain. 

When Vivi let the wall fall away, she saw Haseul clutching her face. Blood streamed out from her fingers. 

“All fine!” The bleeding elf raised her hand. Her skin started to glow. “Just have to right this.” She winced as she pressed on either side of her nose. “Look straight to you?”

“No,” Vivi nudged her fingers, “now.” 

Haseul’s skin glowed even brighter. As did her eyes, from which the tears still came out. 

“Sorry.” Vivi looked away from Haseul’s face to the blood on her hands. “You’re a lot faster than me otherwise.” Her neck was starting to feel warm. 

“Otherwise is the key word,” Haseul replied. “In a real fight, you can play as dirty as you want. Just like I am.” She grinned, but flinched. 

A pressure came over her neck. Vivi reached for it. It was a coil of moonlight. It felt different to what Vivi harnessed. It felt warmer than usual. More potent as well, though it was a quiet intensity. Like an ember rather than the raging fire. 

“Ah ha,” Vivi said. “Have you used that specific tactic before? Break your nose to break a neck?”

Haseul laughed, taking her hands away from a now straight nose. “Not yet.” She pulled out her water skin, pouring it over her head, before wiping away the blood. Any human lady would’ve found it unsightly. Vivi believed that others in the camp would think it undignified as well. “But someone’s pride is always a useful weapon.” Her eyes darkened ever so slightly. 

She could only nod. 

Green eyes widened. “I didn’t mean you were prideful!” Haseul exclaimed. “I just knew you weren’t going to pay much attention to it, because of the nose.” She sighed, a small chuckle leaving her lips. “And I wanted the last say in this.” 

“So _you_ were the more prideful one then,” Vivi replied. Pride wasn’t always terrible. Arrogance was a word she could hardly associate with Haseul. Confident was a perfect fit. 

She nodded. The moonlight around Vivi’s throat vanished. How did she have enough light? So many had complained they'd had too little, but Haseul was using clubs and making these other structures. Did she use it better than them?

“You made the stone hollow, didn’t you?” Haseul almost looked disappointed.

Vivi smiled. “A full-on blow can crush a person. You’d have had a lot more than a broken nose and cracked ribs.” 

“Right,” Haseul touched her side, gingerly, “did I even get a bruise on you?”

“A few,” she turned back towards the camp, “but I think you won today, regardless.”

“I’m the one who was beaten bloody,” she looked at her blood-speckled clothes, “are you sure you didn’t win?”

“You gave me room to get up after that hit to my back. If you’d have used anything other than your arm, that was the winning blow.”

Haseul shrugged. “So we’re even.” She smiled at her. “We went two rounds.”

Vivi didn't find it in her to protest. Haseul's insistence proved she was anything _but_ arrogant. She found herself liking the elf more and more. 

"Next time will be different,” Vivi said. 

“I’m sure.” Her smile widened. “Because next time, I’ll be the one making that pretty nose of yours crooked.” 

______

“Just,” Priad sighed, “take it easy, alright?”

Hyunjin frowned. “You came all the way out here to say that?” And at the end of the guard shift too. She was hungry and on edge from the last spirit she’d fought. She really hated days without enough moonlight. She’d already drained her waterskin and was already starving for whatever pieces she could still get tonight. 

“Heejin’s been on edge for a while now,” he said. “You’re just making it worse if you force her to fight.”

She wanted to argue and say that the training was perfect to soften that edge. It might’ve been one of the reasons Heejin didn’t lash out every other day. 

But arguing with him, especially with the others around, it wouldn’t end well for her. They could talk circles around her. Heejin could also do that, but she never had with Hyunjin. Priad and the others didn’t have the tact to avoid that with her. They relished in making people like her struggle.

This was also the chance to stop seeing Heejin as much as she was. Just these few words with Priad was showing her he didn't like the time they were spending together. Others weren't either. 

“I’m not forcing her,” Hyunjin replied. “But if you think she’s overdoing it, then I can ‘take it easy’.” She stifled a yawn. The many patrols really were getting to her. Maybe she could shave off one tomorrow and use that time for herself.

Beside him, Teveril scowled. “Are we boring you?”

She smiled. “Yes.” Then she looked to the sky. “And it’s time for my dinner.” She nodded at them. 

They let her go just fine. She was pretty sure they didn’t hate her. She didn’t hate them. A lot had just changed since that day. 

Just the thought stung. Hyunjin ignored the pain. Even if Heejin despised how the moon had dictated their actions and showed some their fates, the light of the moon tying two people together had the potential to be beautiful.

Once Heejin stopped rejecting it, maybe she’d start feeling the connection to Priad. As far as Hyunjin knew, the bond didn’t force love, it only highlighted the reasons _why_ you were bound. It was like a very powerful suggestion. It didn’t force you. 

_But she’s not realised that_ , Hyunjin thought. The day after they’d learned of the bond, Hyunjin had left for a few years. When she’d returned, Heejin’s eyes still hadn’t held any affection for Priad. 

Ultimately, her decision to leave hadn’t done anything. She’d learned how to fight from other elves, but also from sour encounters with wolves, witches, and vampires. Seunghee and Hyojung had agreed that she’d come to excel at that. She’d needed to return to train the rest. Yuol was an exceptional duelist, but he was just one person. And no one went as far out as Hyojung’s group did. They came back now and again, but had essentially formed their own faction. If she didn’t love being at home as much as she did, she would’ve made it a permanent thing. 

Then a voice reached her ears, one that was deep and currently quite animated. 

“It could cut the amount by at least a quarter,” Heejin said. She spoke to her father, Erlan, and another. 

“The others'll grow restless,” Lisa frowned, “including me.” She was one of their primary hunters, having a knack for finding spirits. Her usual partner, Jennie, was the one handling the strategy. She had a deeper understanding of their behaviour than most. They made an excellent pair. And they were bound by the light. 

Heejin nodded. “I’d rather be stuck here than not be able to defend myself properly out there." 

“So would I.” She turned to Erlan. “Yuol’ll agree with me and I’ll make sure he’s the bearer of bad news for the thrill seekers.”

Hyunjin tuned the rest out and kept walking. This was probably a new plan in place for patrols or hunts. Maybe something about only those with the most moonlight being able to get out.

Hyunjin just went straight to their fire pit. Haseul and Viian already sat there. She was happy to see that Vivi felt comfortable enough to eat with them. When Jungeun had first come, she’d eaten alone for the first year, only ever coming for the bigger celebrations or when they, usually Haseul, had urged her to join them. When Jinsoul had come, Jungeun had taken the time to eat separately from them again. That had only been for the first month, because Jungeun hadn’t let her have the same isolation she had. The rest of them had welcomed Jinsoul and later Choerry as well. Now they had Viian and it seemed that Haseul wasn’t going to let her eat alone at all. 

“How was it?” Haseul asked. She gestured to a very full platter of cooked food. If she got to the fire first, she always made enough for them all to have seconds. 

“Quiet night,” Hyunjin picked off some of the roasted vegetables and meat, “three spirits came around. One pair, one on its own.” 

She looked at her for a long moment, eyes probing. “You've got patrols for a week. And no guard duty tomorrow. Maybe the day after too.”

She laughed. “Is it bad that I was hoping you’d say that?”

Her brow rose. “Surprising.” She looked to Viian. “The last time I tried to get her to take a break, she did a few day-trips into town just to prove she didn’t need it.”

Viian’s light pink eyes flicked to Hyunjin. “But isn't there more risk in the day for you?”

“Just not understanding them. We got language lessons we got as children,” Haseul said. “And she never paid any real attention.”

“They always think I’m a foreigner,” Hyunjin grumbled. 

The pink-haired girl looked puzzled. “So how did going there prove your point?”

“It didn’t,” Haseul grinned, “but she came back very proud.”

“I still am.” Hyunjin tossed a slice of aubergine at her. “Had to concentrate on everything they were saying. The human language is hard.” 

“And there’s more than one,” Viian replied. 

“I know,” she groaned. “And it just gets worse the farther west you go.” She’d stopped trying to understand the mortals after passing through Russian lands. Her appearance also became increasingly unique for the mortals the further away she went from home. She hated the stares. 

“Do you know any of their languages?” Haseul asked, a spark of interest flaring in her eyes. 

Viian nodded. “One of the western languages, a bit of Korean, but mostly the one in the region above this one.” 

Yeojin sat beside Hyunjin then. “The Ming Empire?”

The newcomer shook her head. “It’s the Qing Dynasty now. Has been for some years.”

“So you were coming from there?” Hyunjin asked. She’d assumed Viian’s clan had been in Korea. Maybe that was shortsighted of her. 

“Yes, but there were plans to go further north,” Viian said. “Maybe even across the ocean and further east.” 

There was something off with that. Viian’s eyes had fallen to the fire. She wasn’t exactly a stone wall when it came to hiding her emotions, something Hyunjin appreciated. But she also wasn’t one to bear her soul. Which also wasn't terrible. 

Still, Hyunjin knew homesickness well. In Viian’s face, she saw that, but also something else. 

“Sorry,” Viian muttered. 

Haseul and Hyunjin shared a look. “Don’t be. None of us have had to leave our home like you did, but we know it’s hard.” 

Then Haseul's expression crumpled. She didn't hide it fast enough. Hyunjin saw it, Yeojin had too. And she was sure Viian had as well, proven by the frown she wore. She looked worried. Unlike Hyunjin and Yeojin, she wouldn't know what it meant. 

But when Haseul wiped her face of the pain, Viian's concern also vanished. Like a mirror. 

“And here’s where you tell me to bond with the three who weren’t born Astra?” Viian asked, raising a brow. 

The newcomer was changing the subject. Thankfully. 

“Yeah,” Hyunjin said. “But also because they’re gonna be your patrol group.” 

Another nod. “But they’re not together often,” Viian frowned, “Jinsoul’s more of a healer than the one to go on patrol. Jungeun goes off with Chuu or by herself. And the only time I’ve only ever seen Choerry with Jinsoul in the camp, or Jungeun when she’s off with Chuu.” 

“You saw all this in the past week?” Yeojin asked. 

Had it only been a week? Time was always quick to blend together for Hyunjin. For all she knew, it could’ve been a week, two, or a month. The only time she’d felt the passage of time was when she’d left for those years. 

Viian nodded. “And I’ve yet to be on any of these patrols.” Then she shrugged. “But that’s also because I haven’t got a grip on the light.”

“Yet,” Haseul said. She was looking at Viian with surprising fondness. “Jungeun just got hurt, Hyunjin’s getting to the edge of what she should’ve been using, and I’ll be just as exhausted by the end of the next hunt. It’s risky even for the experienced.” 

Hyunjin felt eyes on her in that moment. She looked around, wondering if someone was eavesdropping. 

There were some who still sent frowns their way, probably in Viian’s direction, and others who seemed to try and listen whenever they could. That was more to see what Haseul was like and what she spoke about with others. 

She didn’t see anyone looking straight at her. 

The tension in Viian hadn’t faded. “Because of how the spirits have been changing,” she said. “They need more light to be changed too, don’t they?”

Hyunjin was torn between surprise and being impressed at how observant she was. She also liked how the girl didn’t sound spiteful at being left behind for patrols. Hyunjin had to agree with Jungeun on that. It really wasn’t safe. 

“And if you get hurt by one, the darkness sticks with you longer,” Haseul said then. “More like a wound you can’t magically heal. That just takes time.”

“What does it do exactly?” Viian asked. “The way everyone talks about it just tells me that the darkness is bad.” 

“It isn’t bad,” a new voice said. Her tone was sharp. 

Hyunjin watched as Heejin looked between her and Viian. Her jaw was tight.

Already, Hyunjin knew she'd say something like before. She was angry, her mind stuck in memories of before. 

“It’s the type of darkness,” Heejin said, not sitting down. “Like the types of light, even if the rest don’t talk about it.” 

Viian didn’t seem to mind the harsh tone. “So the bright spirits who attack, they have the worser type of it?”

“And there’re dark spirits who don’t attack,” Yeojin said. Her eyes were hesitant. Hyunjin knew she had about as much anger as Heejin did. She didn’t handle it well either. She also knew that Yeojin hadn’t said a kind word to Gowon, Chuu or Yves since that day. Neither had Heejin. 

“So the first thing you do is make sure you know the difference,” Heejin added, her eyes cold. “ _Some_ turn the spirits without caring if they’re better off dark.”

Hyunjin felt how eavesdropping elves stiffened. They were allowed to say things like this, but the beliefs those words alluded to weren’t exactly approved. Hyunjin hadn’t said anything like it for a long time. Her family had stopped saying it long ago.

But Heejin was supposed to think for herself. It was what'd make her a great leader. If only she kept her newfound distaste for the moon to herself. 

“And that’s none of us here,” Haseul said slowly. There was a small warning in her eyes. “Did you come to eat? I can put more on the fire. The others should be coming soon as well, then we’ll have enough.”

“No.” Heejin’s response was curt. “I needed to talk to you.” When she met Hyunjin's eyes, her gaze was a bit more gentle. Why couldn’t she spare that for Viian?

“Is it anything you can say here?” Hyunjin asked. 

Hurt flashed across bright pink eyes. Hyunjin regretted asking. 

She got up instead. 

Heejin barely nodded and turned away, walking to one of the tents. The one Hyunjin shared with Jinsoul and the others. 

Hyunjin felt her face start to burn. Did they have to go here? After everyone else had heard Heejin’s outburst, their gazes would also be on them now. And although Heejin didn’t care for it, the rest did, including Hyunjin.

Still, Heejin walked with more certainty now and a familiar tension in her shoulders. Hyunjin could only follow. 

No one was in the tent. And almost every tent had wards so that simple conversations wouldn’t be overheard. Among other things. 

Heejin rounded on her in the next moment. “Why’s Priad saying you’re only doing half the training sessions?” 

_That bastard_ , Hyunjin thought. Was she really going to give Heejin another reason to hate him? The last thing she was supposed to do was make things worse. 

And now that she was near her bed, her own exhaustion was becoming more pronounced. She wanted nothing more than to sleep for several days. And Heejin was bound to be exhausted as well. Both a group of western elves and sea elves wanted an audience about recent events. Heejin would either be preparing for that or be swept up in discussions. Same for Haseul. 

No, Hyunjin had to do what she could to make sure that Heejin got enough rest. Especially at these times. And the less time they spent alone together, the better. 

“Well?” Heejin let out a long breath through her nose. Her anger had evaporated, leaving only frustration. 

“You’ve made a lot of progress already. We don’t have to see each other that often.” 

The hurt appeared again. It stayed there. “That’s the only time we see each other.” The disappointment in her eyes was familiar. Hyunjin had seen it the day she’d left. And before the next few smaller trips she’d made. 

“You could still eat with us.” Hyunjin fought the urge to cross her arms. “But that might not be wise if you spit at Viian every time she asks for the salt.”

“You know everyone’s going to keep acting like she doesn’t belong here. And even after she’s tapped into her source of light,” Heejin paused, “they’ll ignore it.” 

Hyunjin frowned. “And the way you treat her is any better?” She didn’t leave room for an excuse. “You know her clan’s probably in Russia by now, maybe even across the eastern ocean. She’s just like the others were when they first came: homesick and lonely. And then you’re coming in, as if she’s done something wrong by _asking_ _questions_.” 

Heejin didn’t get angry this time. She only sat down on Hyunjin’s bed of furs. Her fingers fiddled with the blanket. 

Hyunjin was reminded of better days. Days when they’d lay together there, chatting about the stars and other gossip. Heejin hadn’t been full of spite then. She’d been curious and open. 

“You have to stop letting your anger out around her. She’s the one person who shouldn’t receive it. She doesn't even know that Hyejoo exists!” Hyunjin stopped to calm herself. This wasn’t the right way to go about it. 

Even raising her voice with Heejin felt wrong. When Jungeun and the others had come, Heejin had been so welcoming, never judgmental. And now this. 

“So yes, the training’s cut in half for the next weeks,” Hyunjin said. “There’re other things we have to focus on.” She needed to find some way to better their patrols. Shorter shifts or bigger groups. A change that wouldn’t get her as many dirty looks as the last suggestion had. She’d just wanted them to practice a swift takedown, involving aiming right for the vulnerable areas instead of every fight being a glorified duel.

And maybe she’d have to talk to Heejin about that, but she’d save it for another day. When she was using the patience Hyunjin knew she had. 

“Including tomorrow?” Heejin asked. Her voice sounded small. 

“Including tomorrow,” Hyunjin said. “And you know they notice whenever you’re here.” She stopped at the entrance of the tent. “Next time just say it when we’re at the fire. You never had a problem saying everything else when you shouldn’t.”

______

Olivia didn’t run home. She took as much time as she could. Maybe that wasn’t the best of ideas—she’d been attacked by plenty of benevolent and twisted bright spirits. Each she’d turned to dark ones. 

It was dawn. She hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning. She should’ve passed by the man’s kitchens and taken from the stock. A few missing strips of meat and loaves of bread wouldn’t have been missed. Wealthy mortals had food in abundance. They kept a log on all of it and taking it almost never went unnoticed for long. Luckily, she was quite sure that the man wouldn’t order his guards to follow. She hoped so at least. 

Taverns didn’t usually have the same attention to detail, but taking from them felt wrong. They made actual money from serving it to others. 

Olivia scoffed. Was there a right and wrong _place_ to steal from? The mortals could grow their food fine, even if it was an animal, so why did which stockroom she took from matter? 

She walked on, considering where the next town was. Not too far. All animals fled from her and there was never enough fruit or plantlike to eat in the ‘wilderness’. She either stole food or bought it. Luckily, she had enough money to buy it for a few months. 

Briefly, Olivia longed to sleep on a proper bed. 

She shook her head, pushing down the thought. It’d been nearly a day since she’d set off to kill another. Nearly a day since she’d turned away from Alluin. And now she was longing for a warm meal and a bed. Either the luxury she’d experienced with Alluin’s group had softened her or she’d grown delirious. 

The sky was beginning to pale. It was a sign for most mortals to wake. And it was the time when Olivia should’ve been going to sleep. 

Often she’d wondered if that was the right way to go about it. Those who were chosen by the moon had all needed to suffer those changes to their sleep cycle. Yerim had stayed awake until late morning in the beginning, while Jinsoul and Jungeun had taken to the change better. 

In spite of herself, Olivia continued to think of home. Was Jungeun still so punctual? Did Yerim still resist missing out on experiencing a sunrise? Were Jungeun and Jinsoul still ignoring how one of them always waited for the other? 

Homesickness struck her like a slap. She didn’t want a wooden bed and its mattress. She to sleep on furs gathered from previous hunts. She wanted to enjoy meals made by those she’d once loved and sit by a fire Jungeun had conjured. She wanted to drink water infused with moonlight. She wanted to laugh. And she wanted to enjoy food she hadn’t needed to buy or steal. 

There was a time when she might’ve had that in Alluin's group. One of the many things that turned her away was that they talked of having a grand building to house them. Alluin's main influences were the large stone constructs of the west. Olivia hated them. They were scrambled paths of rock interspersed with wooden doors. Unless a fire burned, they were always freezing in the winter. 

But they showed power. Their size created awe in mortals. They _showed_ that you were powerful and rich. To the mortals, they _proved_ you were someone to respect. Even if it was far from the truth. 

And it held what the humans called staff: mortals to work for other mortals. They’d clean, cook, and serve, all to gather enough money to have food of their own. Some did that their entire lives, while others were thrust to fight in battles they didn’t understand. There were other fates, other lives Olivia had caught glimpses of, but didn’t understand. 

Olivia laughed. It sounded like a strained breath with her underused voice, but the twisted humour there remained. Her own life had come to circulate around money and food. How had she gotten her money? She'd taken it or served another to take something else. Yesterday, she’d nearly taken a life to get a bag of silver. 

The mortals called that a crime. Others called it a sin. Some called it justice. 

Olivia had the sense that she’d left that man to die anyway. If the woman who’d sent her grew outraged that he still lived, what was to stop her from finding another? What would stop Alluin from sending another to do the work Olivia had failed to do? 

Perhaps she should’ve gone through with it, if only to spare him from the agony of a death by another’s hand. 

Pushing those thoughts away, she kept walking, tugging her cloak and the shadows closer to her. The light of the sun burned her. It always hurt. It also drained her. 

Olivia made it to the town some time before evening came and all venders returned home to their families. 

“Just passing through?” a young man asked. The corners of his lips tugged up. He eyed her in the way that told her he liked what he saw. Had he known what she was, let alone her age, he would’ve thought very differently. At least, she hoped so. 

Olivia nodded. One of her hands was wrapped around her animal skin filled with handmade noddles, stray vegetables, things the humans called spices, and beef. Though her silver hadn’t been from this region, it’d been accepted just the same. Almost with more reverence than their own money. 

She stowed away one loaf of bread and kept the other. She turned away from the boy and left the bakery. Her eye caught on someone squinting at the wooden hut. Her eyes landed on Olivia. There was a flicker of recognition. She was old. 

Olivia cursed and turned away. Her pace quickened with each step. She heard the woman call out, but ignored it. To be recognised here? She didn’t find one feature familiar about the human, but that wasn’t the case for her, it seemed. 

Of course she’d recognised her. Olivia wasn’t the one who'd aged several decades. Hopefully the mortal would just dismiss it as an uncanny resemblance. It just meant that Olivia would have to wait a few years before returning here. That was hardly a problem in the scope of forever. 

As she returned to the forest, the late afternoon sun peaked through. It burned more than it should have, but her skin never tanned nor burned. At first, she’d wondered why that was. Yerim had come to them quite tan, but paled as her time in the night grew longer. Was her magic subconsciously destroying the light when it touched her skin? 

Above, Olivia spotted birds flying away from her. She still heard the calls of others. That side of the forest always made for a peaceful atmosphere. Coupled with the wind, Olivia could focus on that myriad of sound, rather than get stuck in her thoughts. 

She tore off chunks from her bread loaf. It was lightly sweet, just shy of being a dessert. To her empty stomach, it was wonderful. 

She wanted to find a safe place to stay, something always encased in shadow. 

Her search took her closer to home than she’d been in years. She could feel their light in the distance. It was far away, but still felt too close. She was tempted to turn around and leave the country completely. But she was tired. And Alluin was unlikely to come closer than she had. He was more powerful, yes, but that also meant he was more easily discovered. Perhaps a seer would see him coming sooner than they could Olivia. Unless he sent someone else after her. 

She walked along a river. There were areas with more stone here, mostly rocky banks or boulders. She remembered those from hunting. 

Then she heard soft footfalls. They weren’t from a small animal. These were predatory. 

Olivia summoned a blade and wrapped herself in shadow. She crept towards the nearest boulder. She couldn’t see them with normal eyes, so she looked into the darkness. Whatever followed her drew on the shadows only slightly. 

It was a large figure. Their darkness was familiar. 

Olivia absorbed her weapon and walked towards it. Her hand felt cool. 

The spirit was dark green. It'd taken the shape of a wolf. 

And she'd turned it in the west, quite far away. 

“How'd you get here?” Olivia muttered. 

The spirit looked at her. It neared. If she wasn’t imagining it, its tail was wagging. 

There might’ve been an explanation for it. This might’ve been proof that spirits had more of a mind than they gave them credit for. 

But all she could see were its eyes. They were a bright, yet pale green. Exactly the shade of an elf’s eyes. The sight filled Olivia with longing. Then rage. 

Olivia summoned a crude chunk of darkness and threw it at the wolf. It caught it. And ate it. 

She growled and turned away. Wasting time with this wouldn’t help her find shelter. 

The spirit followed. 

Was this supposed to be a taunt form the moon? She was closer to home than she’d ever been, but she wasn’t going back. Had the moon sent her a twisted reminder of who had turned away from her?

She saw a collection of stone then, rising up a few metres. And there was a portion of it that went in. Not far, from what she could tell. Perhaps it would work. 

She glanced back. The spirit watched with its uncanny eyes. At least they didn’t glitter like hers did. 

Olivia began to climb. She didn’t make footholds, but pushed herself to make do without them. She'd lived a long time without magic like that. It was good never to lose that touch. Even so, unlike those who controlled light, she almost always had a wealth of darkness at her disposal. Everyone had a shadow. 

She reached the top. The wolf was already there. It looked smug. 

Olivia remembered games when she’d seen similar eyes filled with a gentle challenge. She'd seen that same soft pride when the other girl had won. 

She dug her fingers into the rock, tore out a piece of it, and flung it at the beast. It dodged. 

“Leave,” she barked, hoisting herself up fully. 

The wolf remained. 

It wasn’t a proper cave, but the stone curved in to make the semblance of a mouth. 

Olivia gathered the shadows in her hands, creating a short and curved blade. She dug it into the rock. It gave way easily. 

It was very crude work. Jagged edges were left in walls that should’ve been smooth. Bit by bit, however, she got the space to grow. She could at least lie down with some shelter from a midday sun, rain, or full moon. 

The wolf watched her the the entire time, having now sat on its haunches. It eyed the chunks of rocks that scattered the floor. 

“Go on.” Olivia took one up and threw it, aiming for its head. 

The wolf caught it. The rock fell to the ground. The pale green eyes regarded her expectantly. 

She felt an old anger rise. “Don’t you understand? Go.” She stood, feeling dizzy as she did. She faked a swipe at it with her fist. It didn’t flinch. 

She groaned. Then she kicked it, not hard enough to break anything (if it even had bones), but to push it away. The wolf slid, but its claws dug into the stone. It made deep grooves. It whined. The sound tugged at her chest. 

“You’re mindless anyway,” Olivia spat. “What was I expecting?”

Then it was back to carving at the rock.

 _It’s just a spirit_ , she told herself. It wasn’t there to harm her. It also wasn’t there to help. She tried to remind herself of that. It was just taking up space on this already cramped plateau. 

Eventually, the piles of rock built up to the point that she was practically swimming in them. Her hands ached from carving and her arms shook from being held aloft for too long. 

Olivia loved it. When she walked, her mind wandered too much. Here, she could focus on the work completely, even have a bit of fun with what shapes she dug out. 

And now she had to clear up the space. She started tossing the rocks off the plateau. 

Then the unexpected happened. The wolf picked up one of the stone chunks with its mouth. It dropped it off the edge. It didn’t seem to hurt its teeth. 

“So you can do something useful,” she muttered. “Good.” 

In another world, she would’ve been interested in that. This said something about the behaviour of spirits. Olivia dismissed it. As long as the spirit wasn’t a nuisance, she didn’t need to care. Fairies were better at reaching conclusions anyway. 

Together, Olivia and the wolf cleared away the plateau. Olivia wiped most of the smaller fragments towards the mouth. 

Now the space was a little bit more like a cave. She could curl up and still have some room if she moved around in her sleep. She wouldn’t be able to sit up and she’d definitely whack her head when she woke up, but being able to lie down in the first place was a luxury. 

Olivia smiled. After a few days of carving and cleaning, it’d be a proper place to stay. It was as close to a castle as she’d ever get too. All before Alluin had even gotten close to it. 

She smoothed away the bottom parts of the wall. That was a task achieved with a mixture of shadow work and using something like what the mortal craftsman did with their stone constructs. It wasn’t perfect, but good enough so that she didn’t cut herself while she slept. She healed from that, but that didn't mean those things didn't hurt. When she was an idiot, she even got infections.

The wolf lay down a the entrance. It almost looked like it was guarding her. 

“No noise from you,” Olivia dug around in her pack, “or I’ll find a way to get rid of you.” She pulled out the bread she’d already eaten from. She was too tired to cook. After eating something to quell the gnawing feeling in her stomach, she put the last part back. 

She arranged her things to make some sort of pillow. She had one thin blanket. The night wasn’t freezing, the darkness that surrounded her always made sure of that. But now it was nearing day again. She was so exhausted that it didn’t matter what time it was. 

There was a low whine. It was filled with pain. Again, there was a tug at her, as if her own heart told her she was being cruel. 

The next thing Olivia felt was something nudging her leg. The wolf. 

She swallowed the urge to kick it again and opened her eyes. 

“What?” 

The wolf looked back at her with almost reproachful eyes. Another expression she’d seen before.

Her chest tightened. She fought the urge to kick it again. 

The spirit looked at the slowly brightening world outside. There was something close to disgust in its gaze. 

“The light?” Olivia asked. 

Of course, it didn’t answer. It just nudged her again. Its snout was strangely warm. 

“Fine.” She sat up and made the shadows extend toward the cave’s mouth. It made the floor more darkness than natural stone. 

The wolf slipped past her, pressing its body to the wall. It closed its eyes and seemed to actually relax. 

Olivia felt more annoyed than angry. She was too tired for that. “If you wake me up,” she muttered, laying down, careful not to touch the spirit. She didn’t finish the threat. 

Once again, there was no response. 

The spirit was both cool and warm. Olivia didn’t feel unsettled. Her annoyance lingered, but she almost felt comfortable. 

Vaguely, she found the current state of things funny. She was already drifting off, but she nearly laughed. 

That amusement comforted her. Then sleep took her in fully. What greeted her were dreams of glittering green eyes, airy laughter. 

And when Olivia woke, her eyes felt swollen and her head hurt. Her chest was being pressed in on by a deep ache. It wasn’t from longing or even anger, but it still hurt. And she hated it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Went for a more balanced chapter this time. I wanted to start with a bit more of how Vivi is getting accustomed to the camp (with difficulty, but there are some good things), as well as show a bit more of Hyunjin's perspective. That includes a bit of what's happening with Heejin. There'll be more light shed on those two in the next chapters, but I decided that what I had here was enough for now. 
> 
> And then we have Olivia, going off alone in the woods and trying to make a makeshift home out of stone. It's fairly lighthearted compared to what I had before, but that's because she's on her own. There's no source for her anger or job for her to do at the moment. There's just a wolf with very familiar eyes that remind her of the past. 


	13. Bound

100 years ago

_Heejin smiled as Hyunjin pulled her close. She met her in the middle, pressing their lips lightly together. Like every other time, she felt a flutter of warmth in her chest. It made the moment feel right to her, as if all that had come before had made way for this. A seer would probably tell her otherwise, but that didn’t matter._

_“We should be concentrating.”_

_Hyunjin hummed and took her hand. “So focus. What’re the main values of the fae?”_

_She was having trouble looking into sparkling yellow eyes and thinking at the same time. They were getting prettier each day._

_“Knowledge and curiosity.”_

_“And?” Hyunjin held her gaze. “One more, very important. Makes or breaks their judgement.”_

_Heejin raised a brow at her. “Since when did you know these things better than me?”_

_She giggled, the sound making Heejin’s heart swell. “Don’t forget, I also have to know who we’re up against.”_

_“We also work with them,” Heejin corrected._

_“That too,” Hyunjin shrugged, “so what’s the third? It might be their best quality.”_

_It came to mind then. It was also something she saw in the girl beside her. “Selflessness.”_

_The smile she got in return was near blinding. “Now where did that show itself most?”_

_“When they resolved the battle in the south,” Heejin managed to say. She could barely overcome the newfound nervousness she felt around Hyunjin. It’d come up in the last years, once they’d technically reached the end of their physical ageing. Hyunjin’s once adorable eyes and sharp teeth were suddenly balanced out by a more pronounced jaw and fuller lips. More than once, Heejin had been elbowed by Yeojin or Haseul who'd started waggling their eyebrows at her._

_And more than once, Hyunjin had caught her staring._

_Hyunjin asked her about the past conflicts they had with both elves and fae, but then twisted it. She always did that, asking about different outcomes, usually if they’d have won a fight against the mental fae, or lost the one against the eastern sea elves. All repeats of questions Heejin had heard from the elders, but given a spin. Instead of purely asking the best outcome for the Astra, Hyunjin asked her about what the other clans’ relations would be to each other and them. She asked about what the ideal state would be for their clans in the different scenarios._

_And each time a new spin came, Heejin was reminded at how Hyunjin could’ve been in the same position as she was. She was a better fit for it. Her default was to consider the other side, not just think about which clans the Astra were giving moonlight to._

_Heejin tried to quell it, but with each question, her anger at how the elders treated Hyunjin and her family rose. The latter had stopped reassuring her that it was fine. Hyunjin assumed that Heejin had accepted it like she had._

_“Do you really think I’m right for this?”_

_Hyunjin looked taken aback at the question. “This, as in guarding? Or leading?”_

_Heejin squinted at her. “You know which.”_

_She cracked a smile. “Guarding has always been below you, leading is perfect.” Her gaze softened. “Why ask?”_

“You can go over these things again and again, never getting annoyed. I’m just listening, because,” _she trailed off_. Because you're the one talking. _Heat shot up to her neck._

_Hyunjin didn’t note the slip-up. “Because you have to do it and I like learning through you.” She winked. "One of us wins."_

_Heejin snickered. “So leadership is best for me because I don’t like it?”_

_Her lips parted, eyes glinting playfully. Then she paused, the playfulness fading. “You don’t want to lead?” A gruffness had entered her voice. It always did when Hyunjin realised she needed to be serious._

_“It’s not that,” Heejin sighed, “but you know how great Haseul is at it.“ And that had happened even with the older girl’s tendency to challenge even Freya and Eline. To everyone's surprise, they sometimes listened. Heejin was sure she couldn’t do the same. She grew shy around most elders. And her temper flared with most of the people her age. That very anger was a terrible thing to have. Some called it a dark emotion._

_Hyunjin smiled. “Heekie, you’ve got the respect of everyone the moment you start to lead. Every lesson you give the children, they hang on to your every word. Even Hyejoo and Yeojin listen to you.”_

_“They like me,” Heejin muttered._

_“True, but they also like Yves and me, but do they listen to us when it comes to sitting out hunts or patrol on a new moon?” Her smile grew. “You have a fair amount of influence here.”_

_“And you?”_

_Hyunjin didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she held Heejin’s gaze, as if weighing her options. Somehow, it made her even more nervous. It almost made her guilty thinking about how much more Hyunjin's answer would matter to her._

_After a far too long pause, she said, “I’d follow a few orders.”_

_Heejin whacked her arm. “Thanks for the confidence boost.” Even as a jest, it carried weight for her. She felt lighter too, her doubt still there, but less._

_“You’ll make an incredible elder,” Hyunjin pressed a light kiss to her forehead, “it’s why you have to know all of this. They know you’re fit for it once you have. And so do I, if that counts for anything.”_

_“It counts.” Heejin smiled._

_Then she heard the sound of footsteps. Hyunjin reacted before she did, a long white blade appearing in her hands. It was barely noticeable, but Heejin still did: Hyunjin moved in front of her. She still held one of her hands in hers._

_There was a glow in the woods. Moments later, Haseul appeared between the branches, her breath laboured._

_“Heejin, they want you back.” Her green eyes flicked between the two of them. Heejin saw hesitance there. “There’s an announcement.”_

_Hyunjin’s blade disappeared and she straightened from her half-crouch. She looked completely relaxed now. Then she let go of Heejin’s hand._

_“So let’s go.” Hyunjin gave her a small smile._

_Heejin wanted nothing more than to stay. But she still followed when Haseul took off again through the woods, Hyunjin close behind. To match the both of them, Heejin had to run harder. Both had built up their strength more than she had, as the rest of Heejin's time was spent learning sigils, the few nuances of moonlight they did know about, and every other piece of information she had to know about other elves and fairies._

_Haseul didn’t stop to explain, but Heejin had seen enough to be concerned. It was something about her. And Heejin probably wasn’t going to like the sound of it._

_They were gathered around the amphitheatre; the one Choerry had been tasked to make in the years after she'd arrived. Before, they’d gathered around the central fire-pit, but that always made it difficult for everyone to understand what was being said._

_Choerry had carved out a large area for all to be seated, modelled after the ones she’d seen in the west. Heejin was pretty sure it'd also been a place where they’d believed in and even named a goddess of the moon. And while the moon wasn’t a god, Heejin liked that the mortals had also recognised the power of the moon._

_What she didn’t like was that they had to go down there now, where everyone could see them._

_She hated even more that Freya was beckoning her over to the centre. She glanced back to see that Hyunjin had stopped at the very edge. She nodded at her, yellow eyes reassuring._

_Heejin kept going down the steps. Her father was there. He smiled as she came down the steps. It was a reassuring smile._

_With all the eyes on her, she could hardly appreciate that. She was well aware of just how many people there were in their community. In comparison to others, they were small, but it didn’t feel like that now._

_Heejin’s stomach was severely knotted by the time she reached the bottom._

_“All will be alright,” he said softly. In the mortal tongue of a large island to the east. Did they call it Japan? Few understood it._

_Before Heejin could even try to figure out what that meant, Freya began to speak._

_“Today is a most joyous day,” she said, voice reaching far, all the way to the edges of the space. Where Hyunjin sat._

_Heejin tried to find her, but only saw her in the distance. She was sitting up straight. If Heejin was seeing right, Hyejoo was beside her. The black hair was unmistakeable when there was light. Her hair usually didn't reflect it. It was also something Hyejoo couldn’t change, not like how Jungeun, Jinsoul or Gowon could darken their hair. No one knew why. And Heejin knew Hyejoo hated it._

_Freya kept talking. Heejin forced herself to look away from her friends and towards the elder._

_“We’ve known about this for some time, but it was something to save until both were able to understand it.”_

_Heejin had to stamp out her irritation. She’d been called here to be stared at by all of the Astra. She didn't need to have her youth and ignorance thrown in her face. Freya always did this, so much so that it was normal by now, but that didn’t mean Heejin accepted it._

_And then she understood. She realised what she was here for and why her father was there._

_She whipped her head up to look at him, only to see that his eyes were on the moon. They were almost questioning._

_“And normally such a bond would’ve shown itself, but Eline and the other seers agreed it was best to announce it properly,” Freya said. “So it can be allowed to properly flourish.” She waved a hand._

_Three people stood then. Priad and his parents. He was a bit younger than her, but already much taller. They’d been friends in the way that she was friends with Teveril or Kolina: she ate with them once a month. At most._

_Heejin felt the urge to close her eyes. She wanted nothing more than to escape this moment._

Please. Not this. Not him _, she thought. The face of another filled her mind. Someone who sat too far away from her now, watching as this unfolded._

_She almost expected a response, but the moon wasn’t sentient. No, it just gave her someone she barely cared about. And that someone had been tied to her for a while, but she’d never felt the connection. Didn’t that prove the bond wasn't strong enough?_

_Priad smiled at her, a degree of nervousness and boyish charm there. She forced the muscles of her cheeks to rise in response. A smile of that kind was something she was learning to master._

_He believed it._

_The ordeal lasted at least ten more minutes. Freya spoke about the bond and how valuable it was, how important it could be to their lives, all while Heejin and Priad were forced to stand there Heejin pretended to listen._

_Heejin found Hyunjin again. There was no feeling that the girl looked back at her. She almost wished she could read emotions as some fairies could. But as soon as the thought crossed her mind, she knew she’d hate what she saw even more than not knowing it._

_Finally, she was allowed to sit. But she had to sit with him._

_Her father sat on her other side. The reassuring gaze from earlier made more sense. He knew she’d hate this. Just as she knew this was wrong. It had to be. She hadn’t felt anything for him, not even a fleeting crush when they were younger. Never had she wanted to be by his side._

_Even now, after the moment of discovering the bond, she only felt a hint of it. She saw the faint flickers of light between them, but it was supposed to be a glittering path or ribbon tying you to the other person. It was supposed to make you feel at ease to see it intact._

_Heejin fiddled with a new tear in the cloth at her knee. She began to make a hole out of it when her father took her hand. He squeezed it gently. It was also a gentle warning:_ don't show your feelings _._

_The elders were taking this time to talk about how tomorrow they’d start with siphoning out moonlight to make a stockpile. This one would be split between the northern elves and a splinter group of the fae. The fairies would then provide some protection against other fairies who could dream-walk. If a rotten one stumbled upon your mind in the dream-world, any dream could turn into nightmares. Usually, their minds had some sort of protection through the moonlight, but when someone was low or there wasn’t enough light coming from the moon, they were at risk of it._

_Heejin weighed the risks and benefits of dealing with those groups. She considered who'd they'd help next. She thought of anything, but what today meant._

_And then, finally, it was over._

_Heejin got to her feet, evading any conversation that would come. She could put on a false expression, but the matching words wouldn’t come today._

_She needed to find her._

_As she went up the stairs, nearly pushing past the rest, she got congratulations from elves she hardly knew. She passed Chuu, only to see an apologetic gaze there._

_It made her feel worse. Her friends knew what this meant, while the rest could only guess. She hadn’t kept her feelings a secret, but they hadn’t been obvious about it either. Hyunjin had been very conscious of Heejin’s image there. She'd had to remind Heejin of that many times._

_Her eyes were burning when she reached the top. She broke away from the group, going to the part of the camp that was theirs._

_She didn’t see Hyunjin anywhere. She couldn’t even find her light. That didn’t mean much. Heejin could hardly think properly, let alone focus long enough to find her._

_She hurried over to their tents—maybe Hyunjin was cooking. She did that when she was annoyed or disappointed._

_The others were gathering for food already. No sign of Hyunjin._

_She barely reached Hyejoo when the first tear fell. Whether it was frustration or sadness, she didn’t know._

_Gowon was also there, her gaze thoughtful. It immediately turned sympathetic when she saw Heejin. As always, the pale-haired girl stood close to Hyejoo’s side. Their hands were usually inches away from touching. Unless they were already connected._

_“Where is she?” Heejin’s voice sounded thick._

_Hyejoo nodded east. A lake was in that direction._

_Heejin made to go, but a hand took hers. She looked, ready to rip her hand away._

_Sooyoung looked down at her with sad eyes. “She’ll need time to think it through. It'll also be better if you’re not seen leaving immediately.”_

_“What they see won’t matter,” Heejin pulled her arm away, “they had to have this whole thing to_ prove _it existed. They already knows it’s weak.” She knew she spoke too loudly. She knew her words could be an offence to the moon and anyone who was bonded to someone and loved them. And she knew that if Priad heard it, he'd be disappointed. "I’m going.”_

_Before she left, she grabbed one of the packs of food, the ones they didn’t need to cook. Hopefully it had the freshly baked bread that Jungeun had brought in. There was one house in town that made them every four days. It was a family recipe too, one Hyunjin had enjoyed the development of greatly._

_So she took off, hoping desperately that Hyunjin was being careful. Whatever she was feeling now, spirits would be drawn to the negative emotions. If she was deeper in her thoughts, she could get hurt. And if she got hurt, it would be because of Heejin._

_She felt the eyes on her as she walked. She held in the rest of her tears as she hurried past the tents. This was one of the rare moments where she hoped they'd ignored Hyunjin as she'd walked this way. Heejin hated herself for thinking that, even just for a moment._

_She found the source of light in the distance. Hyunjin had run from the camp. She’d stopped now._

_So Heejin began to jog, carefully avoiding the roots that sprung up here and there._

_She was tired. Not only had the guard duty drained her, but the end of the day had landed a final blow. There might’ve still been one left. She hoped she could block it or stop it from falling in the first place._

_Hyunjin sat at the edge of the lake, her head bowed and shoulders slowly rising and falling._

_“You shouldn’t be here,” she murmured. Her voice was thick. She’d been crying._

_The amount of times Hyunjin had cried was below ten. There’d been the beginning when she’d realised that her position among the Astra was lower than she’d ever realised. She’d not understood before why she’d heard blatant disrespect of her parents, nor why she’d needed to train harder than anyone else in combat. Those things she’d done without complaint, but even Hyunjin had a limit. Heejin had been there to see it broken when they were children._

_Heejin didn’t respond and went over. She knelt down beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She wiped away the teardrops she saw._

_Hyunjin closed her eyes. She let out a long breath._

_“I don’t feel anything for him,” Heejin said. “Even the bond is weak.”_

_“They all start weak,” was the response, “only get stronger once the two get closer.”_

_“Which we won’t.”_

_Hyunjin opened her eyes. “Don’t say that.” Her brow furrowed. “This’s a good thing.”_

_“Really?” Heejin asked. “Are these tears of joy?” She brushed away another as it fell._

_She shook her head and pulled away. “What I’m feeling now doesn’t matter.”_

_She took Hyunjin’s hands in hers. “It always matters.”_

_“You’ll need to stop thinking like that,” Hyunjin muttered. She pulled her hands away._

_Heejin frowned. “Just because there’s a bond, doesn’t mean you and I can’t be like this.”_

_“_ This _was never meant to happen,” Hyunjin snapped._

_“Hyun,” Heejin started. She hated seeing this. She could almost feel the way Hyunjin’s heart twisted._

_“No,” she got to her feet, “stop looking at me like that. Stop reaching out.” She closed her eyes and two large tears slid down her cheeks._

_Heejin stood as well. She needed to wipe them away. “This doesn’t change—”_

_“It does.” Hyunjin took her wrists and kept Heejin’s hands away from her face. Thankfully, she didn’t move away this time. “It changes all of it.” She dropped her wrists, her eyes still closed. “And we’ll need to get used to that.”_

_“Get used to what?” she asked. “Whether or not I turn left or right, I get to choose that. That’s how the future works. It adjusts. This isn’t any different.”_

_She shook her head. “Of course it’s different, Heejin. My parents didn’t like that they were bound together, but the moment they looked past that, they saw how much of a blessing it was.” She opened her eyes, her gaze hard. “And you can’t tell me that your parents’ bond was something as trivial as lifting a hand or not. Just because it's affecting you in a way you don't want, doesn't mean it's wrong."_

_Heejin didn’t know how to answer that._

_“Tomorrow I’m asking to join Hyojung and the rest.”_

_Her stomach unknotted itself. And it weighed as much as a stone now. “What?” Hyojung led her group all across the world, which was both an extensive patrol and an opportunity to help those who’d had the bad luck to encounter a dark spirit. They were gone for months, sometimes years at a time._

_“It’ll be better if I’m not there,” Hyunjin replied. “Those initial months usually count for a lot.”_

_“You can’t leave.” Heejin’s voice sounded hopelessly small to her. She felt small too. How could one aspect of the future play such a big part in their lives? So much that Hyunjin would turn away from her now?_

_“It’s better for both you and I if I’m not here.” The corner of her lip tugged up. “No distractions.” With that, Hyunjin sat down again. “Go back. They'll be wondering where you went.”_

_Heejin wished she could protest, wished she could make Hyunjin see that nothing had changed for her. She couldn’t. Not when Hyunjin looked so defeated and so resolute in leaving._

_So she went back. Each step felt wrong to her._

_And while she couldn’t say it, she knew Hyunjin was wrong. The rest were too. So was the moon. Priad was fine, but he wasn’t Hyunjin. And if the person her soul was tied to was ‘fine’, then how was she supposed to put her faith in that?_

________

Choerry gazed up at the dark spirit. It stared back with almost teasing eyes. And it looked between her hands and eyes. 

“I can’t give you that,” she said. “It burns you.” And then she’d hurt him, maybe even turn him. She didn’t want either to happen. 

The bat blinked. Its eyes were two-coloured: coal and fire. And now they continued to challenge her. She’d named him Hypnos, after a mortal god the Greeks had said was tied to sleep. Her Hypnos was almost always sleepy. That he was a spirit made that fact strange. And that he slept during the night made it even stranger. 

Stifling a sigh, Choerry set her gaze back onto her work. She held out her hands, tentatively reaching for the seed she’d placed there. It responded to her, careful, yet ready. The plants always were. 

She closed her eyes, urging the earth to provide what the seed needed. She called forth her light, letting it seep into the ground. That would provide the warmth that often triggered growth. She didn’t know why, but she knew it was connected to how the light healed injuries. 

The sound of earth crumbling reached her ears. She didn’t open her eyes, but the sound made her smile. A hundred years ago, she’d have never dreamed this possible. Fifty years ago, she’d barely been able to get a seed to sprout. After Hyejoo's banishment, she’d barely been able to control any plant, only dirt. In the years that followed, she’d slowly worked her way back, first tackling grass, flowers, and fruit bushes. 

Today she was trying again with fruit trees. Normally, it took years for fruit to sprout. For immortals, that was hardly an issue. But now that the Astra had discovered she could drive that process forward, they’d pushed her to further her magic. It’d been similar to how they’d treated Jinsoul. Before she’d discovered how to infuse water with moonlight, her water magic had been considered useless. After she’d learned it, the Astra had finally respected her other abilities. 

It was the first example of their hypocrisy. And it was hardly the first. 

Choerry’s eyes still burned at the memory. What they’d done to Hyejoo, she’d never forget. She’d never be able to escape the memories of that day and she would never forgive the Astra for what they did that day. 

The only exception were those she knew regretted it. As hard as it had been to accept, she’d seen how Chuu suffered. She’d caught glimpses of Gowon’s pain. Her initial reaction to the bond had been that Gowon hadn’t deserved having it with Hyejoo in the first place. Then she’d spotted the shadows in her eyes and the near consistent hurt there. And while Yves seemed to be as unwielding as a tree, her actions and few lapses in her mask gave her guilt away. 

She was far from forgiving them, but she couldn’t deny what she saw. She knew Yeojin and Heejin couldn’t stand to look at them, let alone speak to them. The rest of them had reached an uneasy truce. The exceptions to that were Jungeun and Jinsoul. They were like her in that they hadn’t forgiven them, but they were separate enough from the Astra that they could look past that. 

Then a rush of cold trickled down her back. She’d felt that before when the light had been sucked from the air and spirits had turned from bright to dark. Hyejoo’s darkness had been able to make even a warm night near freezing. It hadn’t scared her, she remembered, but she’d seen the terror in the others. 

Choerry looked around, gazing into the paths laid out in front of her. There were the small ones left by leaves that were going to fall soon, as well as more erratic ones left by small animals in search of food. 

Then she saw it. It was faint, but no less obvious to her. And the sight made her chest clench. She saw a face streaked with black blood. The path wasn’t white or any other bright colour, but a mixture of grey and black. She only saw it because it was laid against brighter paths. It seemed to draw on the light of those paths, draining them. 

She gathered her things and nearly stumbled as she went to follow it. Hypnos followed. He tended to walk instead of fly. Another reason why she’d thought the name fit: he was lazy. 

It was taking her away from camp. Focusing on it now, she saw that it was going to lead her far away, not to the next town, but a town after that, perhaps even past that. But it fit with what had been happening. Whatever the case with Gowon and the mutilated bond she shared with Hyejoo now, as well as the unrest in the seers, Hyejoo was closer than she’d been in years. 

Questions flooded her mind. She thought of half as many possibilities. Why would she be here? What was bringing her back? Something related to what she’d done before? Was there some pull to hear because of them, something that was causing Gowon to be aware that the bond wasn’t completely gone? Or was she here so that the bond would disappear? 

Choerry shook her head. She was only just starting to grasp what possibilities the moon presented to her. She was far from being able to understand the purpose behind that. Sometimes she wondered if there even was a purpose. Chuu always skirted around that topic. She hadn’t said it, but Choerry knew she hated how she’d gotten the sight at a young age. She knew she hated how much of her life had been spent hiding her knowledge. Choerry was just barely beginning to understand that hatred herself. 

No spirits came to her, even though her mind was going mad with questions. She was also nervous for what she’d find—who she’d find. 

Voices came to her sooner than she’d thought. They weren’t the ones she was looking for, but they were exactly on that very same path. Choerry suddenly felt dizzy just by considering _that_ turn of events. 

“Yerim?” Jungeun held a white blade in her hands. It vanished immediately. “Why’re you out here?” Her brow furrowed as concern flooded her features. 

She nearly smiled at how much care the elf could show to a person. She was also close to retorting that she could be anywhere she wanted in this forest. 

Instead she looked to Chuu who stood beside her. “Do you see it too?” 

Chuu’s frown showed her that she hadn’t. “Which one?”

“Here.” Choerry knelt down and traced the path in front of her. It was cold to the touch. It filled her with feelings of loneliness and a slow-building anger. She took her hand away and moved away from it. A sense of something being very wrong began. “Do you feel any different?” she asked Jungeun. Sometimes people who weren’t seers could feel certain changes. 

Jungeun shook her head. 

Chuu followed her gaze and frowned. “I don’t see it.”

Choerry stepped back onto the path. Cold seeped into her body. It flooded her when she took the next step. 

The peach-eyed elf finally nodded. “Faintly.” She looked at her. “Why?” By her expression, she already knew. The skin around her eyes looked tight. The regret was bubbling up in her eyes. Amazingly, it was with Jungeun and Choerry where Chuu opened up. Neither Gowon nor Yves knew of her sight. Choerry was still taken aback by that. She understood why Yves didn't know, but not Gowon. Maybe telling one and not the other would make the lie worse. 

“Hyejoo.” 

“Here?” Jungeun looked between them. “You know where she is?”

“Closer than she ever was,” Choerry replied. “But still far away.”

“Then we have to go,” she said. “We need to find her.”

Choerry nodded. Then she looked back to Chuu. “Is this a suggestion? Or just a possibility?” A chance to find her again, but no guarantee that she wouldn’t run the moment she sensed they were close. And how could they blame her if she did?

“You should follow,” Chuu said. She eyed the path. Sadness had filled her gaze, something Choerry had gotten used to seeing when Chuu let her guard of smiles down. 

Jungeun’s head snapped to her then. "Not you?"

“It wasn’t a path I could properly see,” she whispered. “So I’m not meant to find her.”

It might’ve been true, but Choerry knew the real reason. Jungeun would soon enough. 

“I’ll make sure your absence isn’t unusual,” Chuu straightened, "should I tell Jinsoul?”

“I’m telling her when we get back,” Jungeun replied. “She needs a clear head.”

With the injuries and the growing doubt Choerry knew she had over Jungeun’s behaviour, she really did. 

“She’ll worry anyway,” Choerry said. She remembered Jungeun’s initial adventures—the ones she’d taken after Choerry had finally started settling in with the Astra. Even though Jinsoul and Jungeun had known each other for a fraction of both their lives, the two had been exact complements to one another. Jinsoul had hated each time Jungeun had gone off alone. She’d recognised Jungeun’s recklessness long before Choerry had seen it. 

Jungeun sighed. “If you’re sure.”

“If you're going to see her,” Chuu’s voice trembled, “then she needs to see the people she l–loved—still loves.”

With that, she turned away, going in the opposite direction of the path, back to camp, leaving the two of them in silence. 

Again, Choerry was reminded of the pain and regret in Chuu and the other two. 

“Let’s go?” Jungeun squeezed her shoulder. “Or do you need time”

“You were the one who jumped at going.” 

She nodded. “But we’re going together.”

Choerry found the energy to smile then. “It’ll be a long trek,” she said. “That’ll be enough time.” At least she hoped so. 

________

Jinsoul dabbed at the wound. It hadn’t closed yet. It’d been a day. And the black lines had only retreated a few fingers. 

“Can I use the elixir?” she asked, seeking out Nuala in the tent. It’d grown in the past years, almost double its size. 

“How much do we have?” The healer shot her a probing gaze. It was warmer than it’d been before, but it still made Jinsoul feel as if she were being tested. 

“Enough,” she replied. “I’m making more tomorrow.” Which included tracking down the nearest witch, unless Choerry would be awake enough to grow some herbs during the day. She was still training with that and the ingredients for potions were even more difficult than growing a fruit tree. No, Jinsoul would just find the witch and do some gathering by herself. 

A nod was the response. 

“Is it that bad?” Jennie raised a brow. “I feel fine.”

Jinsoul gave her a look. “You really want to seem tough now?” She grinned. “It’s soundproof too, you know, you can cry it out.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Then give me the damn elixir.”

She did, fighting the urge to laugh as the older elf’s face scrunched together. 

“What’s in this?” Jennie faked a gag. 

“You’re better off not knowing.” 

Her brow furrowed, but whatever retort she had died on her lips. Her gaze had immediately softened. 

Jinsoul didn’t even have to follow the girl’s gaze to know who’d just walked in. 

“She’ll survive,” she called over her shoulder. After adding a few drops of the healing potion to the wound directly, as well as another layer of liquid light, she quickly put on fresh bandages. 

“You should’ve heard her complaining on the way back,” Lisa muttered, sitting beside Jennie on the cot. Their hands found each other almost immediately. “She acted like she was dying.” Her yellow eyes were humorous, but they’d been full of terror yesterday. 

Jinsoul didn’t say that a wound like that was actually very deadly. They were lucky to have been close enough to the camp. She didn’t want to think about how it would’ve been if Jennie and Lisa had been on a patrol route like Jungeun’s. 

Just the thought pressed at her. The red-eyed elf insisted on going farther and farther away than she needed to. She took on spirits and other beings when she didn’t have to. They were usually too far away from camp to be considered a real threat to them. 

“Thanks to this,” Jennie lifted the empty potion vial, “it doesn’t burn that much anymore.” 

“Just drink more,” Jinsoul said. She took up a waterskin and let more light flow in. “Take this when you wake up and please,” she shot Lisa a look, “don’t go on some patrol.”

Lisa looked almost offended. “Why me?” 

“You’re giving her light whenever she needs it,” she replied. “From what I’ve seen, the light of the person you’re bonded to works better than any other.” She handed Jennie the waterskin. “So however you do it, give it to her when she’s finished this.” 

“Can we give you the light too?” Jennie asked. “Normal water doesn’t taste the same anymore.” The smile she gave her was tinged with gratitude. 

Jinsoul returned it. “‘Course you can.” 

The two elves nodded and got up. Jennie was a bit shaky, but Lisa steadied her, muttering a remark about her getting old. 

Jinsoul chuckled as she bid them goodbye. She tried not to dwell on her brief feelings of envy toward the two. Each glance they gave one another was filled with an affection Jinsoul only knew slightly. She’d hardly spotted it directed at her, but she knew her eyes had held it before. 

As she went to the next person, one of the youths, Yuqi, she started feeling restless. Her thoughts went to a person who should’ve been taking today off. 

“What happened this time?” Jinsoul gave her a mock glare. She needed to focus on who was here. 

Yuqi blushed. “I might’ve gone too far out.” 

“With others?” She hoped it wasn’t with another girl she knew of, someone who was also getting to be just as reckless as Jungeun could be. 

She shook her head. A bit too quickly. “It wasn’t a really bad spirit. Handled it pretty quickly.” She looked at her arm, which, sure enough, didn’t seem too badly hit. 

Jinsoul set about to cleaning it. She kept silent as she did it. Yuqi was too kind-hearted to leave her in the dark about this sort of thing. 

“We thought it was one of the better ones,” Yuqi murmured. “They usually don’t have that much darkness in them, like this one, but—”

“It was a weaker aggressive one,” Jinsoul finished. She was happy to see Yuqi talking about the benevolent dark spirits as ‘better ones’. The worst thing they could do now was start telling the younger ones that all dark spirits were bad, when they clearly weren’t. Like Yeojin, Yuqi had been old enough to know what Hyejoo’s banishment had meant, but not close enough to her to get angry about it. 

“We—I,” Yuqi sighed. “There were three of us out.” 

She stifled a smile. “But they’re not hurt?”

She shook her head. “We were all working together. No one lost too much light.”

Jinsoul nodded. “That’s the best way to do it.” The bleeding had mostly stopped, so she just wrapped it in a moonlight-water-infused cloth. It’d be fully healed by morning. 

Yuqi’s blush strengthened. “But we still shouldn’t have done it.”

She grinned. “Nope.”

“It was my idea,” a new voice said. It was deeper than most, but not as deep as Yuqi’s. 

Jinsoul turned to see Yeojin strolling into the tent. She was both smiling and frowning at the same time. 

“We’ve all been bored here. I wanted to find a new place to explore, since the river goes on further than everyone’s been telling us.”

Jinsoul nodded. On good days, she could feel the exact progression along the river. On good days, she could usually find her way based on which part of the river she was at, not through the water exactly, but through how it moved. That didn’t mean the rest were able to do that. A few times, they’d had to go searching for Choerry, Yeojin, or however many of the other younger elves. 

This might’ve been one of them, but they’d come back the moment Yuqi got hurt. Jinsoul silently thanked the moon for keeping that sense in the girls. 

“Did you find it?” Jinsoul asked. She patted Yuqi’s arm. “You’re good. Just don’t explore until we have at least the first quarter again.” 

Yeojin sniffed. “No one needs that much out there.”

“We need it now,” Jinsoul replied. “You were lucky to find a weaker dark spirit today. What if a different one comes? Or a pair?” The mothering role fit more with Jungeun or Haseul, once it had been Yves, but none of them were here. And through being a healer, she’d learned how to be some type of authority. 

A frown was growing. There wasn’t anger, but it was frustration. “We’ll be in a bigger group.”

She shook her head. “It’s not that easy.” 

“You’re just saying that, because we’re young.”

Jinsoul shrugged. “I’m saying that, because it’s dangerous for Jungeun, Yerim, and me too. We don’t need the light for half the things we do, but you do. And Hyunjin and Haseul go in bigger groups too.” 

Yeojin didn’t respond to that. Yuqi was looking between them, cradling her arm. 

“No exploring?” Jinsoul gave the latter a stern gaze, but followed it up with a smile. 

“No exploring,” Yuqi said, giving Yeojin an apologetic look. 

“Fine,” Yeojin sighed. “But it’d be better if we actually learned how to deal with the new spirits.” 

Jinsoul could’ve said that even they didn’t know how to do that, but she didn’t. Not where the others who were injured could hear, nor where Yuqi was still listening. 

The restlessness was still there. Jinsoul wondered if today would be another long day spent waiting for Chuu and Jungeun to finally come back. She still felt a pang of hurt each time it was the two of them going and not Jungeun and Jinsoul. Was that ridiculous of her to think, or justified?

The curtains parted then, revealing Chuu. She looked more worn down than Jinsoul had ever seen her. 

Beside her, Yeojin stiffened, her frown turning into a scowl. 

Jinsoul felt a pang of guilt for not sending them away sooner. As much as Yeojin’s anger was justified, Chuu wasn’t supposed to be on the receiving end for decades on end. None of those three were. 

Chuu held the hateful gaze sent her way for a moment. The fatigue in her eyes just grew, along with defeat. “Jungeun and Yerim will be gone for a few days.” 

“She’s not with you?” Jinsoul asked. 

“Why?” Yeojin spat. 

Jinsoul fought the urge to tell her to leave. 

“They’re following something,” Chuu said. “Heard it in the town there. The two of them went to follow. Jungeun said I should come and tell you.” 

_Don’t worry and don’t follow_ , Jinsoul thought. As always. “Thank you,” she said instead. 

Chuu gave her a small smile. She knew exactly what Jungeun’s words meant. 

“ _What_ are they following?” Yeojin asked. Her tone hadn’t gotten any softer. 

Chuu winced. “A surge in stories. We couldn’t tell if it was a spirit or something else.” There was no flicker in her eyes or waver in her voice. 

Jinsoul watched as Yuqi nodded and Yeojin’s expression reverted to a frown. They believed her. Jinsoul would’ve, but somehow she knew it was a lie. She was caught off guard by how she knew that, but also at how well Chuu lied. Had she always been like that? Did Jungeun know that? With how close they'd gotten, Jinsoul hoped so. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For this chapter, I wanted a little bit of everything. I wanted the past to evaluate a little bit more about the previous chapter, but also to move things along with Olivia's situation on the other side. My bridge between them is the future and how it can be both an uncertain suggestion and a direct view into what's to come. 
> 
> With the concept of soulmates, I'd have to say I'm a sucker for it, but I can't help but think what it'd be like if things didn't go as planned. On the other end, we've got the path between Choerry, Jungeun, and Olivia. Chuu wasn't able to see it, but Choerry was. Chuu could've gone with them, but she didn't. To round it all off, I wanted to show you a bit more from Jinsoul's perspective and what she actually does for the Astra. 
> 
> Regardless, this is a story with many threads. They're all connected, either right now or further down the line, promise. However, it'll be taking a while to fully weave this story together. It's plan I had from the beginning, so I'll be keeping at it, but I hope it's a journey you'll also be enjoying. 


	14. Decision

Guards met them in the forest. Jungeun had spotted their armour and immediately stopped to cast an illusion over her hair. Ever since she’d been born with pale hair, she hadn't been able to change it at will. She could with her eyes, but not the hair. 

Only after she’d sought out a witch had she finally learned a spell to darken her hair. It didn’t go completely black, but to a brown colour. That shade was still light enough to be considered odd, but not enough to stand out completely. It was if she was meant to have lighter hair. She wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. 

She’d also discovered that even in the west and north where paler hair arose, she wasn’t able to blend in at all. Her facial features were the issue there. What few expectations those people had made the light hair even stranger. 

Now, with brown eyes and hair, she and Yerim stumbled onto the path. They held each other's hands tightly. 

“Stop!” A sword clanked at the guard’s side. 

The group strode over, coming to a stop a metre before them. Their torches burned. Even though Jungeun could call on those flames and Yerim could open up the earth beneath them, the two of them huddled together, trembling. To give the mortals peace of mind, they almost always had to give them a sense of control. Whether that meant acting afraid, naive, or lost, they’d learned how to fall into these masks. 

The other elves hadn’t quite gotten that. Most mortals ended up thinking they were bizarre, arrogant, or both. Some were charmed, as the light often seemed to have a comforting effect on them. There was also the fact that many elves moved with undeniable confidence, pairing it with grace or power. That captivated mortals just as much as magic did. A fair amount of elves were also remarkably attractive. 

Of them, only Hyejoo, Hyunjin, and Chuu had managed to leave that behaviour behind. Jungeun had always hoped that Hyejoo still retained that, both to hide the turmoil that surely ate away at her and whatever magic she’d received instead of light. 

Jungeun remembered the cold and faint sweet scent of darkness then. Why she could recall it so well, she didn’t know.

A gruff voice jolted Jungeun from her thoughts. 

“What purpose?” The guard in the centre was slender, his armour light. He carried himself as an experienced fighter did. Even a mortal knew that heavy armour wasn’t always the best option. 

Yerim spoke first. “We only wished to pass though, sir.” Her voice was small, but still bright. “My sister and I were lost, but now,” she trailed off, “for us to see we’ve found someplace safe, we—” Another falter. Her lower lip trembled. 

Jungeun knew she was tapping into her worry for Hyejoo and how tired she actually was for this performance. Even so, she was surprised at how convincing the younger elf sounded. 

The guard’s eyes softened. “You must stay the night, miss. It’s only safe indoors tonight. Especially now.”

Jungeun buried the worry that shot up then. “We’ve been able to escape animals, sir. Not many at this time.”

He shook his head. “There’s certainly cruelty on these roads, miss. And recent events mean there’s a curfew. Temporary, but with good reason.” He actually sounded regretful. He didn’t ask their reasons for being here. Perhaps his guesses about what their current state was ensured he didn’t want to. 

Yerim’s eyes widened. “What happened?”

Another guard raised a hand. “Nothing to repeat.”

The first guard smiled meekly. “Come with me. I’ll escort you to the inn.”

Jungeun managed a smile. “Thank you, sir.”

His own smile warmed. He also straightened. “Of course.”

They began to walk. Jungeun felt their eyes follow, while the man kept looking over at her. She was glad he didn’t stare at Yerim. Though she was older than all of them, she was still far younger than Jungeun. And she knew enough about how others, specifically mortals saw them. She’d rather ensure those gazes _weren’t_ turned towards Yerim. 

So, giving Yerim a look, Jungeun walked a bit faster towards the guard. He saw her approach and slowed. 

“You can’t tell us anything else?” she whispered, knowing full well that Yerim would hear it. “We’ve walked for hours. If we’re truly not safe, then,” she broke off. Doubt and worry was easy to put on. She was hardly pretending. 

He grimaced, but Jungeun knew he was considering. 

“Please,” she leaned closer, dropping her voice further, “we’ve run from worse than cruel men on the street. I know these woods well.” Which was true. “I’ll take my sister to the next town tonight.”

A shake of the head. “This is no cruel man,” he hesitated, “we hardly know what it is. Some men doubt, but we don’t.”

Jungeun nodded, but didn’t speak. 

“There,” he met her eyes, before nodding as well, “there was a threat to a man’s life. He's near mad with terror. All thought it was lunacy of some other cause, but I saw the house. Where the wraith came in.” He shuddered. “Never have I felt something so false in my life.”

Ice trickled down her neck. Only a few times had she heard of deaths that felt ‘false’ in that way. They were deaths caused by darkness. Only once had Jungeun seen the body. That’d been _before_ the darkness had reached Hyejoo. But if something had happened here because of her?

 _A threat to a man’s life_. It hadn’t been carried out. 

“Was he hurt?”

A shrug. “No one may see him, save healers. He sent his family away. I think he fears they’ll return.”

“And his guards?” Wealthy and powerful mortals always had them. 

“They saw nothing,” he said. “All relieved from duty at the house, but not fully from his service. A few're here.” He glanced at them. "Best not to ask them." 

Jungeun frowned. This human wanted to maintain all of his protection. 

“Forgive me.” The guard lowered his head. “Nothing you’d like to know, I understand.”

She didn’t correct him. She only nodded. From him, she’d heard enough. 

______

Choerry forced a gap between the bushes. The leaves and branches withdrew under her influence, either curling inwards or growing back into their stems completely. 

“These better not whip me,” Jungeun muttered. 

She smiled. “They’ll try their best.”

She hadn’t come to the Astra with the best grasp over her magic. She’d all but mastered control over earth, but plants hardly obeyed her. Jungeun and Jinsoul had taught her about light and how to broaden her original magic. 

But of course, that hadn’t been enough. She’d had to develop an eye for the future as well. 

As a child, she’d always found it amazing that there were elves, even witches, who could use their magic to predict the future. 

But for her, instead of reading the stars or having specific dreams (though those also came now and then), she read the ground and people. It was almost never neatly presented to her and mostly consisted of feelings about the future, ranging from unsettled to calm, sometimes even excited. 

She rarely liked what she saw. She didn’t like having to hide it. And she didn’t like how it made her feel. 

Like now, she saw the darker path, more grey than anything else. That darkness seeped into the other paths along the ground and the stone wall. Hyejoo must've climbed it. 

Seeing it now, she could only remember the day the light had abandoned Hyejoo. The day they'd voted her into exile. 

Choerry hadn’t been able to _see_ then. She was glad she hadn’t. Otherwise, she’d have seen how ruined a bond could become between two people.

But if she’d had the magic then, could she have followed Hyejoo? Could she have gone with her wherever it was she’d gone? 

Time and time again, Choerry had heard that darkness corrupted. Those who said it repeated it, describing how it was the night that allowed dark spirits to be born or created from bright ones. 

She was almost certain that they repeated it to reassure themselves that they’d made the right decision. If you believed that evil was inevitable, that made dispelling any trace of it easier. 

Ironically, Chuu had been one of the main people to deny those beliefs. She’d left the camp with Yves once to go to the emotional fae, some of the most reclusive individuals in all of existence. There they’d asked about light and darkness—big steps for any non-fairy. Choerry could barely tolerate the lessons of the Astra, let alone the ramblings of almost any fairy. 

There, they’d learned that the light could be different kinds of emotion: happiness, calm, excitement, and even love (though how love was supposed to be _one_ emotion, Choerry didn’t know). 

Darkness contained hatred, grief, anger, and fear. It also held sadness. 

Chuu had told her that the benevolent dark spirits probably hold sadness and other non-aggressive emotions. Some might have even had good hidden within them. 

She’d also said that might be the very darkness Hyejoo had. 

But the darkness she saw now held anger. It wasn’t explosive, but it was potent. She could almost imagining the feeling was her own. Almost. 

“Let’s go,” Jungeun whispered. “Her magic’s still on him.”

For a moment, Choerry wondered how Jungeun knew that. Then she remembered that the past and present were much more accessible for the rest. Sometimes Choeryy had trouble seeing what _was_ and what had once been. Chuu has said that Yves had an excellent eye for the past. 

They cut into the hastily repaired wall. The light they used warred with the darkness still within the wood. Each tried to destroy the other. 

Being so close to the darkness now, Choerry realised that the guards weren’t patrolling this part. It seemed an oversight, but she now knew that they felt unsettled here. She wondered how the man felt with the darkness still clinging to him. 

Their path had grown even more pronounced. When they got into the house, she began to follow it. 

Their steps were soft on the floor, but not silent. 

“Who’s there?” The voice trembled. 

Choerry looked to Jungeun, a panic settling in. They weren’t in danger, but how would they do this if he though they were dangerous?

Jungeun just shook her head. “People who can help,” she said. There was no trace of surprise or fear in her eyes. 

No response. 

They kept walking. Choerry could hear his quickened breath and heart. 

She looked at the pouch at her waist. They’d probably have to use that. 

They stopped at the door the path had led them to. Nothing had changed. He wasn’t going to attack them. Probably. 

She opened the door. As a child, she’d loved to go to mortal towns. They’d made countless constructs of wood. The first time she’d come, she’d learned that most people grew terrified of magic if they saw it. Especially if it involved sights they could hardly reconcile—bending trees, fast-growing plants, churning dirt, and deformed doors. 

“Stay there,” the man snapped. He was gaunt with large bags under his eyes. In his hand, he held a sword. His arm shook. His eyes flickered between them, hardly focusing. He looked both furious and terrified. 

“We told you,” Jungeun said softly. “We can help you.”

Choerry saw the darkness wrapped around him. It crept up his legs and was wrapped around his throat. Some was even near his heart. It was both familiar and foreign. Happier memories came to mind, but Choerry was also even more unsettled about what had happened. 

“Help me how?” He raised the weapon higher. He was too far away to be any threat with that. They’d still have to make him feel as if he was one. 

“We’ll only know once you tell us what happened.” Jungeun’s hands were empty. She held them out in front of her, palms up. “We might have some answers for it.” 

He still looked between them with wide eyes. The anger was almost gone, but he looked close to falling into hysterics. 

“We can get rid of the cold,” Choerry said. If a dark spirit ever caught a mortal and they survived, an Astra could get rid of the darkness, while a mental fae took the memories. They couldn’t live their lives normally if they still had one of those things. 

His hands stilled. “How?”

She looked to Jungeun. Would they really tell him about the light? He was already going to have his memory of magic erased, but it could still overwhelm him now. Even more than he’d already been. 

“Just know that we can,” Jungeun gave him a gentle smile, “and that you’re safe here.”

He nodded. The sword was lowered. 

“What happened?” Choerry asked. She could force a smile, but it was almost too bright for moments like this. Jungeun had the softer touch there. 

Luckily, he replied. “I didn’t hear her come in. And when she did, the room turned cold a-and then I couldn’t talk, move—I could barely breathe.” Whatever bravery he’d had left completely. He was only a scared man. “She put something here,” he pointed at his mouth, “and then something here.” He touched his throat. “Said she’d k…kill me if I screamed.” Tears welled up in his eyes. He wasn't mad. He was traumatised. 

Her chest tightened. She gritted her teeth. This wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. 

“What did she look like?” Choerry asked. 

His brow furrowed. He was quiet for a few seconds. “There were black patches on her skin. She was wearing only dark clothes.”

“Her features,” she said. 

Jungeun shot her a questioning glance. She’d raised her voice too much. 

“I,” he stammered. “Black hair and eyes. Unnaturally so.” His eyes flit between them and the room. “White skin, but like marble, with the darker lines and–” he sat down, deflated, “that’s all I can say, I–I—”

“It’s alright,” Jungeun said. 

It wasn’t enough, but how could they expect him to describe her perfectly? All the other rumours had been about a dark-haired girl and they’d known then that it was Hyejoo. 

Here Choerry also knew it was her. She didn’t want to be right, but the evidence had been at the wall, in the house, and in this man. 

“Why didn’t she kill you?” Jungeun asked. The tender look in her eyes went against the sharpness of her words. 

“I don’t know,” he shook his head, “and I don’t know why she was going to, just–just,” he closed his eyes, “she was sent here.”

“By who?”

“I don’t know.” Another shake of his head. It looked more like a twitch. “I don’t even know what she was.”

Jungeun walked over then. “Keep still now. I’ll take the cold and fear away.” She lifted her hands. “She gave you darkness. I’m going to give you light.”

He nodded. With his eyes as wide and fearful as they were, he looked like a child. 

Choerry felt a brief flash of pity then. The question of who Hyejoo had been set by still remained. And she wanted to know _why_. Why order this man’s death in particular?

She took her bag and pulled out what she needed. 

“You think that’s necessary?” Jungeun muttered the words in _crosesh_. Her skin glowed, but her eyes were still brown. She wasn’t risking exposing him to red eyes. 

Choerry nodded. She had to know why. And if she knew why, maybe they’d know more about why Hyejoo _hadn’t_ gone through with it. 

She made sure she had the right things and walked over. Before coming to the Astra, she’d been told to spur the growth of different plants, ground their leaves and roots into powder, or draw out their sap to mix into something else. As she’d gotten older, she’d learned what those mixtures were actually capable of. She’d remembered each and gone out to witches, other elves, and even fairies to learn more mixtures. 

If they ever dealt with more difficult or distrustful mortals, she used them. If she wanted to give Teveril or someone else a few problems, she used them as well. 

“This helps with what we’re doing,” Choerry murmured. “You’ll still be able to move and everything.” 

He hummed. Moonlight had different effects on people: euphoric, calm, giddy, and more. His was combination of two. 

She opened a small wooden box and held it beneath his nose. The powder there would help calm him further. She uncorked a flask and poured some into his mouth. It wasn’t an elixir of truth, but most mortals became more forthcoming through it. Others would call her mixtures drugs. 

Jungeun flinched then. Choerry watched as darkness latched onto her fingers. It shot up Jungeun’s arms, sinking into her skin. Some lingered around her heart. There was still darkness there from a previous spirit. It should’ve been gone by now. 

“Do what you have to.” Jungeun’s tone was too sharp: the darkness had been of anger. Choerry knew why there was so much anger, but knowing it hardly made her feel better. 

“Can you hear me?” Choerry squeezed his shoulder gently. 

“Yes,” he said. He was drowsy, but lucid enough. 

“Why would someone want to hurt you?”

“Many reasons.”

Annoyance flared in her. “What are they?”

“What I’ve done with my wealth, what I’ve achieved and how, my use of power.” He sighed. “But not one could’ve gotten someone like her here. I’d never seen her before. Her face was one I’d remember.”

More forthcoming. He was practically calling Hyejoo pretty, despite what she’d nearly done to him. 

“Would they hate you enough to pay for your death?” 

Jungeun shot her a warning look. 

Choerry ignored it. “What have you done to be so hated? Are there many who’d hire someone, or just one?”

His trembled. “My,” a long pause, “my wife would hate me.”

“They’re not here,” Choerry said. “Your family.” Horrible thoughts came to mind. Hadn't he sent them away?

“No.” He opened his eyes. They sparkled a bit more than normal now. His pupils had constricted. “My first wife.” He blinked once. 

“Did you kill her?”

His eyes widened. 

Jungeun’s hand now gripped Choerry’s shoulder. 

“Did you?” If he had, then that told them even more. If this was the work Hyejoo did, then was she seeking justice for others? Wrongly, but Choerry could better see the reasons why Hyejoo had come all this way. 

“As good as.” A tear fell. “Made her return home in the middle of winter. She’d a carriage, but it was caught in the storm.”

Jungeun stiffened. “Why did she go?”

Choerry recognised the shame in the man’s eyes. She’d seen it plenty of times. She’d felt it as well. 

“Couldn’t have children,” he slurred. 

“So you abandoned her.” Choerry could barely keep her voice from trembling. 

Jungeun didn’t give her a silent warning this time. 

He nodded, looking completely at ease. Did he deserve to escape the fear Hyejoo had given him? She'd given him his life. Wasn't that enough? 

Choerry couldn’t know if this was the reason why Hyejoo had come, but she’d heard enough.

“Others will come,” Jungeun said. “They’ll help you more.” 

“She said others would come too,” he sighed again, “they’ll not reconsider.”

A part of her wondered if those people's success would be a good thing. A part of her felt he deserved it. 

As the thought crossed her mind, Choerry saw the little light in him fade. The sight created a pit of sickness in her stomach. Was it because she wished him dead? Or that the 'others' had decided they were coming in this very moment?

Choerry shoved her thoughts down. His fate was set. They weren't the ones supposed to protect him. He had guards for that. Mortal guards. 

Both of them were silent as they left. Neither said anything as they passed through the town, the inn the guard had found for them forgotten. They just made their way back into the forest, deep in thought. 

There was a dark path leading towards the man’s house. It wasn’t Hyejoo’s, but another’s. Choerry didn’t tell Jungeun what she saw. Her stomach writhed around in response. 

If Hyejoo had known that story, she would’ve come straight here, itching to right a wrong that was similar to hers. If this man had died that day, the justice Hyejoo had sought would’ve been there. 

But he hadn’t. That meant something too. She wasn’t the monster the Astra painted her to be, nor the ‘wraith’ the mortals had deemed her as. Choerry knew this as well as she saw the paths before her now. 

So even if Hyejoo had been enraged by what she’d heard, it hadn’t driven her to kill. 

What did that mean if the man’s fate was still wreathed in darkness?

_______

Olivia stopped where she was. She stared at the two figures in the distance. One had pale hair, the other dark. One was surrounded by a soft light with red streaks in it, the other with purple. She even recognised the way they walked. Jungeun had a stronger stride, while Yerim hadn't lost the light spring in her step. 

Just seeing them called on her anger. She felt how the shadows stretched out towards them. Immediately, she reigned them back in. Of all people, these two were undeserving of that.

Just the thought made her pause. If she saw someone who truly filled her with rage, would she make the shadows crawl to their heart? Would she subject them to the same pain they had her? 

Much of her said yes. 

Olivia swallowed down her discomfort at the thought. She looked at the two figures again. They’d seen her. They'd begun to run. 

Would she run or stay where she was? So much of her wanted to run as well. And the rest wanted to stay and greet them. 

Why were they here? 

They’d realised what had happened. Someone had sent them here. A seer? Or had the news reached the town faster than she’d thought? And they now knew why she was here in the first place. Now all of them would know. 

Alluin had told her that even the Astrans who’d not hated him for his magic had eventually turned against him. Olivia hadn’t known he existed until he’d come to her. Neither Jungeun nor Yerim knew of him either. 

Olivia knew very well how even loved ones could turn away from a person. She knew how quickly it could happen. 

Another decision came then. She made it easily. 

As the two approached, Olivia summoned a blade of darkness. She held it at her side, its point directed at the ground, but she’d drawn a weapon nonetheless. 

Because even if they could be trusted, even if she still loved them, she never wanted to feel the sting of light on her skin. She’d never be surrounded by bars of light. 

“H-Hyejoo?” It was Yerim who spoke. They'd stopped running at least twenty metres away. 

Olivia didn’t respond. She waited. She needed to see them properly. She needed to see their faces clearly and not vaguely as she did now. 

“It’s us,” Jungeun said. “Jungeun and Yerim.” 

“I know,” she rasped. Despite having had her fair amount of exchanges with that damned wolf, she still sounded as though she’d recently shouted herself hoarse. 

Both stiffened. 

And then they were close enough. Jungeun’s red eyes flicked between Olivia’s face and the blade. Yerim’s were only on her. Both sets of eyes were filled with disbelief and relief. Neither of them were afraid. 

What if that was because they knew that they’d find her here? What if they had turned against her in the last years? What if they realised they had a good reason to?

“Why’re you here?” Olivia asked. 

Yerim’s brow furrowed. She opened her mouth, but Jungeun spoke first. 

“We found out why you came.”

One question answered. When Olivia looked to the darkness, she saw it in Jungeun. There was both her own, as well as that of a spirit. It was still in her. Olivia felt the urge to take both away, but she forced it down. Not yet. 

“You saw him,” Olivia said instead. She consciously tightened her grip on her blade. Would she really use it? Would she be able to hurt Jungeun and Yerim? 

If they tried to chain her, she knew she would. She knew how capable Jungeun was as a fighter and that Yerim wasn’t that far behind. She knew there’d be a fight if they tried something. 

Jungeun nodded. “And you didn’t go through with it,” she’d stopped looking at the weapon, “we know that now.” 

Even though the words were the truth, Olivia was caught off guard. Her expectations left her. Perhaps it was the time they’d spent apart, perhaps it was that she’d expected Jungeun to be here with Jinsoul and Yerim to be smiling brightly. Perhaps she’d expected them to act as if nothing had changed, to act in a way that would justify Olivia’s anger. 

She’d expected them to turn on her now that they had a reason too. 

And nothing was to her expectations. 

She absorbed the blade. Both sets of eyes went to her hands. They’d see the darkness crawl up her hand and coat her skin. 

Olivia expected fear. 

It didn’t come. 

“You got it under control?” Yerim took a small step forward. 

“I had a teacher,” she admitted. 

Jungeun’s brow furrowed. “How?”

They didn’t know Alluin existed. He was hidden in the same way Olivia would one day be. 

Her anger returned. 

“I wasn’t the first to be cast out.”

Yerim’s eyes widened. Jungeun’s didn’t. 

Olivia repeated her question. “Why're you here? Did the seers know? Or did you hear a rumour?”

Yerim and Jungeun exchanged a look then. It wasn’t secretive, but it was a silent conversation. 

Olivia didn’t feel unnerved by it. How many times had she watched Jungeun and Jinsoul have a similar exchange? Or Heejin and Hyunjin. How many times had she herself had those with another?

Her hands formed fists. Having two reminders of home brought other memories to the forefront. They reminded her of why she’d been tempted to run. 

“I’m a seer,” Yerim said. “It started after you were—after.” 

Olivia didn’t need to ask what that meant. “So the moon led you here,” she frowned, “to me.” 

Another nod. “No one else knows,” Yerim’s voice was reassuring, “not until—”

She cut her off. “No one else can know.”

Again, Yerim looked surprised. “What do you mean?” 

Olivia frowned. How could she not see it? Olivia was about to snap those very words at her that when she realised how her frustration had spiked. 

She took a deep breath. “Astrans tried to chase after me once.” And if they hunted her down, then something would happen. She knew that much. 

Yerim looked to Jungeun then. Years had passed and she’d grown more serious. But now it seemed as though those years hadn’t passed. Olivia still remembered how she’d looked that day. She remembered the horror in Choerry's eyes. 

“Okay,” Jungeun said. Her gaze was sad. “But are you okay?” She also walked closer. Two steps this time. 

Olivia was tempted to back away. No one had come this close unless it was in a fight. She’d not come so close to someone unless it was to threaten them. 

She didn’t. 

“Are you eating properly?” Jungeun’s brow rose. 

Olivia snorted. “That’s what you’re asking me?” She could feel the corners of her lip tugging up already. 

She shrugged. “Are you?”

“I will be.” Today she’d make a proper fire. Then she’d have a good dinner when she got back to the cave. 

Both of them seemed to want to ask something else. 

Instead, Yerim leapt forward, wrapping her arms around Olivia’s shoulders. 

She couldn’t help but stiffen. She expected Yerim’s skin to burn her. She expected her own anger to rise and her control over the darkness to falter. She expected the cold to surge. 

All that came was the warmth of Yerim’s arms. Then came a second pair, even warmer than the first. Olivia would’ve known who it was any day. 

“You’re freezing,” both said. 

Of course she was. The darkness held no warmth. She’d grown so accustomed to it. It’d made fires far warmer than before, while sunlight and summer had become more than uncomfortable for her. 

They both tightened their grip on her. 

It was then that Olivia felt a strange lightness settle over her. To be held again and so close to people she’d known so well—it was a dream come to reality. 

But dreams had their ends. So would today. 

Olivia patted their backs and pulled away. The cold returned to her. She saw that Yerim had begun to cry. Jungeun’s eyes looked glassy as well. 

Olivia’s eyes were dry. 

They remained as such when she broke the peaceful silence. “Don’t try and find me again.”

Yerim’s brow furrowed. She opened her mouth, looking more lost than she had before. 

“How will we know you’re safe?” Jungeun asked. 

“You don’t have to know,” Olivia replied. “But can’t seers tell that sort of thing?” She glanced at Yerim. 

She shook her head. “I only knew this path existed a few days ago. Before that there,” she faltered, “there was nothing.”

Immediately, there was a curl of darkness. Yerim had lied. Did Olivia need to know what the truth was?

_No._

“Why can’t we see you?” Yerim asked. “We just found you again. All we ever heard were stories.”

“A lot of them true,” Olivia finished. Hadn't they called her a wraith? 

Yerim's brow furrowed again. She was worried again. Not disgusted. Neither was Jungeun. 

“You start coming to see me and others will notice.” She sought out the darkness in Jungeun and Yerim. She held out her hands. “I'll take away what you took from him. It doesn't hurt me." 

They did. Without asking. They _trusted_ her. 

She took the darkness back. Some of it was familiar. The other part of it something she could bear. Thin black trails slithered over her fingers and up her wrists. It made her anger shift where it sat. Her grip on their hands tightened. She let go. 

“If you keep coming, someone may try to follow.” Olivia paused. She couldn’t bear Yerim’s wide purple eyes. She couldn’t hold Jungeun’s warm gaze either. Both reminded her too much of home. Both reminded her of everything she’d lost. “And I don’t know what I’ll do if I see them.” 

Them. That could’ve been anyone of the Astra, save for a few people. Her fingers itched at the prospect of wrapping someone in darkness, of taking hold of an Astran’s shadow. 

She closed her eyes. 

“And if we do come?” Yerim asked. “They’ll know of what happened soon, if they don’t already. What if Yeojin wants to know you’re alright? What if Heejin or Haseul need to make sure you’re safe?”

Olivia flinched with each name. “I’ll leave.” _Again_. But even as she said the words, she didn't know if she'd truly leave. She'd evade, yes, but not run fully. 

“But—” 

“I’m not coming back,” she snapped. 

This time, both of them winced. 

Olivia looked to see if the darkness had reached them. It’d strengthened, but no trace of it had fallen onto the two elves. Had her tone scared them?

“Go back,” Olivia muttered. “Don’t follow me, don’t consider the direction I’ve gone.” She held each of their gazes. “And get people to that town quickly. There'll be another attack.”

She didn’t add that even if his memories of Olivia were erased, he’d still be a target. Years could pass and he’d still not be safe. Maybe even a human assassin would carry out the job. Either way, his fate was set. 

“Who was it who sent you?” Jungeun asked. She still looked disheartened, but there was also some unease. 

Olivia wondered if it mattered if she said it or not. Would it be considered some sort of betrayal? Did that matter?

“He’s like me,” Olivia said. She quickly looked around the forest. No spirits had been alerted by her anger or the distress of the other two. Not yet. “His name’s Alluin.”

There was no recognition in their eyes. Just confusion. 

“He helped me.”

Jungeun’s question had an edge. “Then why’d he send you to kill someone?” 

“They help mortals do what they cannot,” she replied. “That includes killing.”

The elf’s lip twitched at that. Olivia briefly thought of what Jungeun had done in the past. The Astra still had use for her capabilities, but they hadn’t needed to use it for a while. Except for Jungeun’s patrols. 

Olivia turned around. 

“Wait,” Yerim called. Before Olivia could even stop, her question came. “Why’d you leave him?”

Because she didn’t want to kill someone? Olivia had realised that she could’ve gone back if she’d wanted to. She knew she wouldn’t have been banished for not doing something. 

No, there was a reason, one that wasn’t an excuse. 

“I didn’t need to stay.” She’d learned what she’d needed to. She’d seen what she’d needed to see. 

Neither of them said anything. 

Olivia kept walking. 

Neither of them followed. She heard them start to walk the other way instead. 

A part of her felt disappointed. While she would’ve hated if they’d have followed, she did long to be going back with them. They were going home. 

She dismissed that notion. Their home was no longer hers. To go back would be to subject herself to bars. To go back would be to see those who’d turned on her. 

As she walked, she searched the forest for spirits. There were some bright ones nearing the two, but they were the benevolent kind. Nearing her were two darker spirits. The wolf spirit was nowhere near. It’d actually remained in the cave when she’d left for the town. She’d heard how the news of her attacking the mortal had spread around the town. She’d watched the guards begin to patrol the edges of the town and along its roads. All because of her and who else may come. And all of it would be ineffective. 

If Jungeun and Yerim had managed to sneak into the house without alerting any guards, then the mortal had no chance. 

Then she felt it: a sense of something _wrong_ in the air. It was familiar to her. It was the darkness that came with death. 

Olivia didn’t know how it worked, nor what her limit was, only that she knew someone was nearing. Their intentions were shrouded in shadow. She’d learned that feeling it to the extent she did now meant something less than ideal. 

Keeping one eye on the light to her back and the other on the new presence, she walked on. She vaguely recognised them. Not enough, but the hairs on her neck stood on end. 

She summoned another blade. Alluin had once said the one thing he’d never do was turn against one of his own. He’d also said she was free to go whenever she wanted. She didn’t know if she still fell into the first camp after leaving it. Was this another precision-based wordplay that the political mind enjoyed?

The newcomer had come to a stop. Were they expecting her?

Sure enough, she saw them in the next minutes that passed. 

“Ho, deserter,” they said. He was a fairy, but his _crosesh_ was exceptional. His eyes were a deep blue. She knew him to be Taegen. 

“Why’re you hear?” Olivia asked. Not for the first time. 

He shrugged. “Straight to the point.” The corner of his lip tugged up. “There’s still money to be had. That wench’s angry at the delay and newfound attention, but she’ll still pay.”

That meant the mortal woman truly wanted him dead. 

The darkness around him made more sense. The realisation made her heart sink. 

“You killed him.”

Taegen didn’t respond, but his smile remained. It didn't make him truly cruel, she'd learned that over the years. It just meant that human life was worth very little to him. 

And his presence here meant that Olivia's actions hadn't mattered. No matter how many would've spared him, the mortal had been dead. 

“He had a family.” Had they been in the house as well? Were they also dead now? She hadn’t seen their faces. 

His brow rose. “You care for that sort of thing?” he asked. “Had they not died, your parents would’ve also thrown you out.” A hum. “So I’d always assumed you were an orphan. Makes for a less tragic story." 

The words tugged at an older wound. Although he was right, the light tone made her angry. She let it grow. 

“Did he send you?” 

“For the job,” he smirked, “not after you, Olivia. If you feared today was your end, it isn’t.”

She only nodded. 

His eyes went one way. Olivia knew what he looked at. “Who’s over there?”

“Elves.” 

The darkness around him made her feel even colder. Then it surged. 

“Astrans.”

“No.” It was both a truth and a lie. 

A smile. “Light smells.” His eyes narrowed. 

“They weren’t born with it,” she said. Too quickly. “One has fire, the other earth magic.”

“Then I’ll take the sapling,” Taegen replied. “You’ll have the flame.”

She couldn’t believe her eyes. 

He looked perplexed. “I know what they did. And with lesser numbers, that group of bigots get weaker.” 

Briefly, Olivia wondered why that would matter. 

“You won’t be able to fight them.” Not if he wanted to win. 

“You will,” Taegen drew out a blade, “and they won’t be able to fight this.”

Then he was off, his footsteps soundless. The illusions of the fae. She’d started learning a spells for that in Alluin’s camp. From another fairy. 

She watched the darkness sharpen. She watched it extend itself, wrapping around two elves. He’d made a decision. 

So had she. 

She grasped his shadows and wrenched him back. His arm clipped the tree. 

He looked stunned. “Let me go,” he hissed, “and he’ll not learn of what you’ve just done.”

Amazingly, she knew he meant it. 

Olivia reached out to the blade of darkness. It was Alluin’s. It held only rage. It drew on Taegen's own darkness. 

It flew into her hand. Her lip curled. She fed it even more darkness. 

“Fight me for it.” 

Taegen growled.

The air turned static. A bright light streaked through the air. Too quick to dodge. 

It struck her chest. She flew back. Her skin burned. 

Blood coated her tongue. She’d bitten it. 

She forced his shadow to solidify. She drove it into his legs. 

He screamed. 

Olivia scrambled away. Another bolt hit her back. Mortals died if struck by lightning. She just burned. 

Her jaw was numb. All that left her now was a groan. 

_Keep moving_. She started running, feeling disconnected from her body. She let the darkness coat her skin. She forced Alluin’s blade to break into several shards. 

She threw each of them, spacing them out to catch him if he dodged. 

Taegen summoned lightning. Deafening cracks broke the silence. The sparks shattered the darkness. Not all of it. 

Olivia twisted the remaining shards. One sliced his cheek, while the other buried itself into his shoulder. 

He snarled. The anger would help to blind him. 

She dove to the side, rolling across the ground as she did. A bolt caused a tree behind her to explode. She stopped behind a larger one, letting the darkness spread across her fingers. 

Another crack. The sound of wood shattering followed. 

“Afraid?” His voice was a hiss. 

Olivia smiled. She reached for his shadow. Rather than taking hold, she poured more darkness into it. There’d be fear _and_ anger there. 

A sharp gasp. 

She stepped out from the ruined tree. 

His hands trembled and his eyes were wide. He looked at her, stunned. Then he lunged for her, fingers crackling. 

She let him come, before driving her fist into his chest. The impact sent a jolt of pain up her arm. She heard ribs crack beneath her hand. 

He lay on the ground, breathing in short bursts. 

Then his legs hooked around her own. She was brought to the ground. She summoned another blade and landed the next blow. She heard him cry out, but didn’t know where she’d gotten him. 

A hand caught her wrist. The sparks across it seared the flesh. She clenched her teeth to stifle the cry. It didn’t work. Instead, it came out as a strangled shriek. 

She forced the darkness of her blood to seep into his skin. 

He recoiled, but she didn’t relent. It kept flowing. She had much to give. 

He began to scream. 

And Olivia felt herself begin to smile. 

Next, she made his shadow tangible. She wrapped it around his arms, legs, and neck. He whimpered. 

She leaned over him. “Afraid?”

Wide blue eyes held hers. The darkness around him held fear and hatred. She still saw the ties leading to death. He still wanted to kill Jungeun and Yerim. 

Olivia called on the remnants of Alluin's blade. She forced them to form a dagger. She lengthened the blade with her own darkness. If Alluin found him, he'd know it was her. And she'd let him. 

She said nothing. No questions, nor threats. 

Instead, Olivia drove the blade into his chest. It was easy. 

Only a whine left him. It was filled with pain. 

She left the blade there. She got to her feet. 

In that moment, she realised she wasn’t alone. 

She looked up. Instead of grey eyes, she saw pained purple and red ones. There might’ve been some sort of understanding in the scarlet ones. 

Olivia ran before she saw it. The shadows came to her readily. It was a cold and tight embrace. 

Her eyes burned. They weren’t tears for the fallen fairy, nor for the killing itself. He would’ve done the same. 

No, they were for what those two sets of eyes might’ve seen. There’d been horror in purple eyes. She’d seen sympathy and regret in the red ones. 

Briefly, she considered turning back. What if they could help her? What if Jungeun would tell her of her past experience in battle? 

Olivia pushed those thoughts away. She’d made each of her decisions. She’d already crushed whatever hope they’d had before of her coming back. She wouldn’t do anything to revive that hope. 

_______

They were left with the dying man. By the looks of it, he was a fairy, but in this moment, that didn’t matter. 

Olivia's words still in both their heads, they didn't follow her. Choerry had wanted to, but she knew Jungeun would've stopped her. 

Instead she looked down at the fairy. 

He’d wanted to kill them. Choerry had felt the moment his attention had shifted to them. She’d watched the light of others start to fade before, either on the day they’d been attacked or killed. She’d seen it before with the mortal. She’d never seen it happen to herself. 

The path in front of them had stopped some paces away. Jungeun’s light had flickered, but only that. Choerry’s had properly begun to leave her. 

And then it’d all stopped. The path home had reformed. Choerry had made them turn back, telling Jungeun to expect a fight. 

The sounds of said fight had reached them then. The taste of metal had been in the air. The cold had been immense. 

Then they saw them. Two figures, one wreathed in lightening, the other in darkness. 

How many stories had Choerry heard in villages and towns of the ‘wraith’? Some of them had actually been true, others fabricated out of the fear of mortals. 

When they’d seen the two then, Choerry had understood why they’d given her that name. She’d discovered why the man had trembled at the mention of her. 

Olivia had moved swiftly, her face partially obscured by shadow. Her eyes had held anger. All that Choerry had felt from the darkness, she’d seen on display in Olivia. 

The worst had been the faint smile. It’d reminded her of the special smiles Hyejoo had had before, as well as the rare grins and loud laughter she’d let out. And today she’d worn a hint of that before killing another. 

The fighting had ended before they could step in. Choerry knew she wouldn't have been able to either. 

And yet, as she looked down at the fairy, she didn't pity him, nor did she want to save him. Jinsoul would’ve. 

“When he’s gone, make the sigil to send him off,” Jungeun said. 

Choerry looked at her. “You’d give him a farewell?” Only then did she register Jungeun’s words: _when she’s gone_. Jungeun would let him die as well. 

“You want the people who sent him to come looking?” Her expression was unusually cold. Then she looked to the fairy. A muscle in her jaw tightened. She went over. 

Choerry could only watch as Jungeun knelt down. 

Gingerly, Jungeun took hold of the blade and wrenched it out. Blood sputtered from the wound. 

A strangled noise left him. Within seconds, the fairy froze. Dead. 

Jungeun dropped the blade. She flexed her hand. The skin was red and had black threads. They wound up her arm. Her face didn't change. 

Choerry watched as the darkness wound itself around Jungeun’s heart. Her light began to fade. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A chapter very focused on one set of characters. A tad rare for this story, but it felt wrong to interrupt what was happening. Instead, I had perspective shifts and small jumps in time. I also really wanted to explore Choerry's character some more. When I say I love writing for these characters, I really mean it. Their stories are connected, but they all feel very distinct to me when writing. I can only hope they read that way as well. 
> 
> In the times we've been living in, I've found some light in it through writing. Sometimes, either intentionally or unintentionally, the way the world has been working (or not) seeps into my stories and their themes. Even though it's through a much more fantastical lens, prejudice plays a large role in this story. While that lens affects the way the characters act and their beliefs have their own reasons for existing (most of which are not applicable to our world), the world of TLotL is changing, just as ours is. I wanted to write about twelve characters living through that change, while exploring a new form of magic and different character relationships.
> 
> Would love to know your thoughts, either on how things will progress or what you think about what has already happened.


	15. Divided

The news rushed through the camp. No one needed to be gathered for it. They just knew. 

A mortal was dead. His eyes had turned black. Veins of darkness now protruded out to his limbs.

His guards had been cut down as well, their bodies partially burned. Their eyes hadn’t changed colour. 

No one had gone to the house since then. No bodies had been cleared away. It was just standing there, alone. 

And immediately, the speculations rose. All of them centered around one person: Olivia. 

Jinsoul wanted to deny that suspicion. She wanted to say that it hadn’t been Hyejoo, that she wouldn’t target a mortal like that, that she wouldn’t create a massacre. 

Hyejoo wasn’t the only one with the magic to control darkness. There were enough rumours and stories to prove that. But Jinsoul couldn’t say with confidence that the man whose body was wracked with darkness _hadn’t_ been killed by Hyejoo. 

Then came other accusations, ones that were absurd. And they’d stirred the anger already sitting in her. 

“The one with fire is still out there,” someone muttered. Jinsoul hardly knew her. Was her name Lorain or Lierin?

Jinsoul gritted her teeth. “Our seers would’ve seen that path long before it came.” Saying anything in ‘blind faith’ here would weaken her words. She always needed to redirect it on the people they wholly trusted, despite always holding said people at arm’s length. For her, the idea of seers had been terrifying from the moment she'd heard about them. Now she knew them to be arrogant and disconnected from reality. 

Still, if she had to pretend she respected them to defend Jungeunm, she would. 

Lierin or Lorain just shrugged. 

Jinsoul was close to socking her in the face. So she turned away. Maybe she wouldn’t give the elf numbing when she next got hurt. 

She pushed that thought down. Even among her old clan, she’d never denied someone aid even if she hated them. As a healer, you had to make the difference between need and want. It didn’t matter if she didn’t _want_ to help someone. It was just important who _needed_ help.

She looked at who else was discussing what had happened. 

“When it all happened, you said she’d never find people who’d tolerate her being there,” Heejin was saying, “so now you say she’s working with someone?” 

Kolina fixed her with a hard gaze. “Someone with as dark a heart as hers.”

Jinsoul watched as the rage surged in Heejin’s eyes. With her, there was a real risk of her actually punching someone.

“You don’t have to be evil to kill, Kol.” Jinsoul slipped her hand around Heejin’s arm. "But we do have to start thinking about what we’ll do next.”And she hoped Jungeun would be back then. She might’ve been impulsive and stubborn, but Jungeun had instincts as good as any elder here. Jinsoul definitely trusted her judgement more than any elder. 

Heejin pulled her arm away as they walked. She still wore a scowl. Jinsoul didn’t look, but she knew that if she did, she'd have seen Heejin's light darken. It was that darkness that usually drew on malevolent spirits. If you went on a hunt with inner turmoil, the spirits almost always came to you. Especially if you were alone.

“It’s starting again,” Heejin muttered. “We know she’s not the only one out there like this. Why can’t they even consider them?” 

Hyunjin had been hanging back, but she was still there nonetheless. She went to Jinsoul’s side, but not Heejin’s. 

Jinsoul saw the hurt flicker in Heejin’s eyes when it happened. She didn’t fully understand it. The lunar bonds and the still tumultuous Astran politics were all too messy for her, but she did know how the two felt for one another. That was obvious to anyone with a brain. 

“Having one threat is better than having more,” Hyunjin said. “And don’t want to consider that an unknown threat is out there. She’s one they know.”

“One they trapped, hurt, and abandoned,” Heejin shot back. 

“Calm down.” Jinsoul didn’t reach for her this time. “They won’t let you go on any search if you don’t.”

The pink-eyed girl didn’t respond. 

Beside her, Hyunjin brushed a hand against Jinsoul's. She knew that meant ‘thanks’, but was still glad that Heejin hadn't caught it. 

Haseul was talking to her mother, Lisa, Nuala, and a few others. She was discussing the search parties. 

“We don’t need more than five,” she said. “If we’re expecting witches and vampires and they still haven’t come, then they will soon. What better time than now?” 

“If she’s on a killing spree, we’ll need ten,” one elf said. Jinsoul didn’t know this one’s name. 

Haseul’s eyes shot to that elf, her gaze hard. “The seers have seen nothing in other towns. They've seen other threats to _us_. I’d rather take those seriously.” Then she turned back to Lisa. “People can volunteer for it, but they need to have enough light.”

Jinsoul found herself nodding along. The town would be a beacon to malevolent spirits, both light and dark. That’d been the trend each time a mortal had been found with darkness in their body. Spirits also came when there were killings between mundanes. If there was ever a battle, there was a risk of disruption in the form of dark spirits attacking both sides. They almost always fell into the war stories and folklore. 

Nuala also nodded. “And the healing process takes too long. If there’s an attack, we’ll have cut our own legs off.” 

Haseul didn’t show it, but Jinsoul knew she was relieved. In her experience, Nuala was one of the most understanding of the older Astrans. Due to her position as the main healer, her words were also valued. And Nuala actually listened to Jinsoul. Others didn't much, but at least Jinsoul'd gotten _someone's_ ear in the Astra. It'd only taken her about a century to get. 

“Then five,” Lisa said. “Of maximum five as well.” Then she was off. 

The others who’d clearly been against it turned away as well, a few curses under their breath. 

“You’re staying,” Nuala looked at Jinsoul then, “the seers worry more than I’d care to say.” Her brow furrowed. “When the other two return, Choerry will need to help with the elixirs.” With that, she walked straight for the elders. They were somewhere in the centre. Lisa was already talking to Freya and Yuol. 

“Where’s Yeojin?” Haseul’s eyes scoured over the rest. 

“I’ll look for her,” Hyunjin said. “She might’ve heard the first part.”

Haseul grimaced. “And went looking?” 

She shrugged. “We’ll see.” She jogged off. 

Jinsoul caught Heejin watching the yellow-eyed girl. Her expression was both concerned and longing. Because, of course, Heejin wasn’t going to be in a search party either. She’d be with the people getting the mental fae involved. Again. 

“And the newcomer?” Jinsoul asked. She hadn’t seen Viian’s pink hair once. She still didn't know why it was pink. A magical choice? Or born with it? 

Haseul’s calm expression was starting to waver. This was getting too much for her. “She was here until the rest came along.”

“First real look at our society,” Heejin scoffed, “I can barely fault her for not wanting to see the rest of it.” 

Jinsoul knew that well. She was also surprised that Heejin wasn't talking dismissively of Viian. Maybe she'd read the girl's hostility wrong. 

“Since I’m staying, I can go to her,” Jinsoul told Haseul. “And when Jungeun and Yerim are back, we’ll figure the rest out.” 

Haseul finally smiled. Her eyes shone with gratitude. She nodded. 

Jinsoul was glad to turn away from the chaos that was the Astra. They were all scared and confused. The younger ones were either eavesdropping or been told to stay in tents to avoid said eavesdropping. Jinsoul pitied the people who’d be responsible for answering their questions later. 

Would she also be explaining a few things now? She didn’t know if she was the right person to even talk about Hyejoo. Haseul and Heejin were better for that. Even Hyunjin was the better choice. 

Except for the fact that they were busy, half-overwhelmed, and Heejin would get too angry to talk about it. 

Jinsoul looked for the fainter light that was Viian. It’d started out dull for everyone who hadn’t been born Astran. As they’d drawn on more light and used it more, that light had gotten to the same levels of a normal Astra. 

She found her within earshot of the camp, but pretty well hidden between the trees. 

The girl was sitting cross-legged. In front of her was a complicated looking rock with carvings. Jinsoul recognised some as sigils, while others were in the fairy language. It was filled with more circular symbols than anything. 

“A mess, isn’t it?” Jinsoul said. “It wasn’t that bad when I came.” 

Viian started. There was a thud as the rock fell. She caught it with her hand. Her arm barely sank. 

_So she’s strong too_ , Jinsoul thought. She felt guilty then for having barely spoken to her. Jungeun had gone out of her way to help Jinsoul start her life with the Astra. Having been the first non-Astra to be brought here, Jungeun had made sure that Jinsoul hadn’t felt as alone as she had then. She’d done the same with Choerry. Jinsoul had tried her best to help, but Jungeun had always had a way with getting people to open up. 

Now Jungeun wasn’t here. They’d all been preoccupied with the new spirits, now even more so with the deaths of those mortals. And Viian was far from feeling at home here. 

Viian nodded. “Our discussions were often a lot cleaner when there were people reading our minds.” 

Jinsoul sat down beside her. “Wasn’t that too invasive?”

She shrugged. “Not if you grew up with it.” A small smile. “And befriended a mental fae yourself.” The rock her hand melted. It became a set of bands. They each wrapped around her arms. Was it to always have a weapon with her? Had she always had those? “But I understand why the elves hate the fae." Viian met her eyes. "Our ways are foreign and a lot of our magic is invasive. As you said." 

Another burst of guilt, even though she knew the other girl wasn’t making some sort of attack. She just spoke as if it was a completely normal thing. 

“They’re not all bad,” Jinsoul replied. “I might like elementals more than mentals, and them way more than the emotional fae, but they've all got their exceptions.” She nudged her. “Just like we’ve got our own.”

“You’re also more divided than we are,” Viian said. “But I suppose that’s because of your numbers being greater.” She frowned. “Witches and vampires fight among one another because they’re so varied as well. We don’t, because there’re too few of us.”

She hadn’t asked about Hyejoo yet, or Olivia, as everyone now referred to her as. 

“Do you miss it?” 

Viian didn’t respond immediately. She looked at the ground, almost as if searching it. 

“I was there long enough to learn to love it,” she said. “And hopefully I’ll be here long enough to do the same.”

Again, Jinsoul was reminded of what she’d forgotten about the newcomer. She’d been born between their two worlds. Jinsoul wondered if she’d been treated poorly growing up as well, if she’d been treated like an outsider from the beginning. 

“When I first came here,” Jinsoul leaned back against a tree, “I knew _crosesh,_ but I didn’t really know what sort of culture I was coming into _._ ” Then she remembered that Viian barely knew who she was, let alone where she came from. “I’m _Arcsa_ ,” she said. 

“Sea elf?” She raised a brow. “Aren’t many of you blue?” 

Jinsoul laughed. “I could turn blue, but I’m technically one of the landed ones. My mother was a full sea elf, my dad was from the ice.” 

She was proud to see the sparks of interest in Viian’s eyes. 

“What does ‘landed’ mean?” 

“Born like this,” she pointed at herself, “instead of, well, blue and adapted properly to the water.” 

“Did that mean further division?” Viian asked. “If some were on land and the rest were free to explore the sea?”

“Sometimes.” Jinsoul shrugged. “But not that bad.”

“Was it difficult to leave?” 

“I think it’s always hard to leave home,” she replied. “Whether you wanted to or not.” Again, she thought of Hyejoo. However bad her homesickness might’ve been, it was nothing compared to that. She was lucky to still be able to visit the sea now and then, even if it’d become easier to leave them at the end of each visit. 

Viian didn’t respond. She was getting that face again, the one where she was sinking away into her thoughts. 

“You know,” Jinsoul began, “Jungeun was the first one to be chosen by the moon. At least she was the first the Astra had come over here.” 

“And how,” Viian paused, “seers?” 

She nodded. “When she came here, she was just relegated to combat. She told me about how the only constructive thing they'd asked her to do was light the fires all around camp.” 

A pink brow furrowed. “All of them?”

Jinsoul grimaced. “All of them.” Thinking about it, she was reminded about how good she'd had it. She'd had someone there for her, someone who’d known about her homesickness and sense of not belonging. She'd also had someone who’d protected her from being treated like that. Jungeun had made sure to draw Jinsoul in to the small group of friends she'd made there. And they'd quickly become Jinsoul's. 

Viian sat back. “Why’d she stay?” 

“Her people forced her to go.”

Her eyes had flashed with anger. Then it was gone. 

Viian remained silent. 

“Dark spirits almost always go after us if we’re alone or in a small group,” Jinsoul said. “The rest can’t fight them, not really, but if just one Astra is in a group, they're the perfect target.” 

“So they were scared." 

“So were my people,” she replied. “And Yerim’s.” 

Viian just nodded. She looked closed to annoyed. 

They sat in silence then. Jinsoul had needed to get used to that over time. She didn’t naturally like long silences, but she’d gotten patient enough to tolerate them. 

Viian broke the silence first. “Being born as I was, the rest didn’t want me there. It wasn’t that they thought I’d turn on them, only that I was from a union no one had understood or liked.” Her eyes locked on something in the distance. She looked tired. “My magic was just reforming stone at first,” she said. “And since it could be so destructive, the priority was to make it so that I’d mastered it before I’d turned twelve.” 

“Ah,” Jinsoul grinned, “and I thought we were early with sixteen.” 

She chuckled. “But since we needed to delve deeper into our magic, it was always known that I’d find ways to make myself less of a weapon. And I did.” 

Jinsoul was slightly taken aback by how casually Viian spoke of that. She was even a bit enthusiastic. 

Then again, this was the life she’d lived with the fae. A part of Jinsoul had always wanted to carry out the research on her own magic, as well as that of the Astra. 

“What'd you find?” 

Viian smiled. It lit her entire face up. “That there’s near endless amounts of stone beneath our feet. That I can differentiate between the different types and some are more easily controlled than others. I can even find minerals and draw them out!” Then she looked sheepish. “Sorry.”

Jinsoul shook her head. “I’m still interested. Go on.” She was also half-stunned at how different Viian acted when it came to this. It was a good change. 

She looked surprised. “Well, those were the primary pieces of what I can actually do. The rest was what those things taught me.” 

Jinsoul gestured for her to go on. She’d have to tell Haseul to ask Viian about her magic. This was what she’d devoted years to finding out. And getting her to open up like this made Jinsoul feel more than a little accomplished. 

“A lot of rocks are made up of layers, but I could hardly tell why. That was when I actually went to the mortal settlements around where we were. There I’d found people who looked at rock the same way I did,” she smiled fondly, “I’d had to sneak into their studies then, as discussing such things with females, let alone foreigners was impossible.”

“And what do the layers tell you?” 

Viian had straightened as she’d spoken. Now she leaned forward slightly, her light pink eyes shining. “The age of stone structures. Some were attempting to find the age of the entire planet.”

Jinsoul suddenly felt very stupid. “What’s a planet?”

Viian hardly batted an eye. “A massive celestial body.” She waved a hand at the ground. “This all is curved. I can feel it, but you can sometimes see it on horizons or in the distance. And if it is always curved, at some point, one does travel so far that you return to the place you were. I’ve done it before.” 

“So it’s all held like this?” Jinsoul opened her animal skin, drew out water, and created a sphere. 

She nodded and rock spouted up from the ground. It formed oddly shaped pieces. They each embedded themselves in the water. 

Viian pointed at a part of it. “A planet. We're here.” She spoke as if it were the simplest thing. Then she pinched two of her fingers together, her brow furrowing as she did. A small ball of moonlight formed. It floated up to the water. “And the moon. Also round.” She met Jinsoul’s eyes. “Likely nothing I should share with other Astrans, or?”

She shook her head. “But Yerim’ll like it.” 

The ground started to tremble then. Viian looked alarmed. 

“That’s her,” Jinsoul said. “She sometimes does that.” Either when she was excited, angry, or scared. The timing was almost scary in how perfect it was. 

She listened for footsteps, only to hear stumbles and pained breaths. A cold pit formed in her stomach. 

In the distance, a pale glow appeared. It only belonged to one person. 

Jinsoul felt a panic begin to settle in. She got to her feet and ran. She heard Viian stumble as she also followed, caught off guard by the sudden change. 

“I’m fine,” someone called. It was the person who wasn’t glowing as she should’ve been. The moon was slowly starting to reveal itself. There should’ve been enough light for her to be glowing. 

Jinsoul reached them. 

Yerim was practically carrying Jungeun, whose skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Her eyes were dull. And when Jinsoul looked to the light she held, she saw that it was still bright. Even so, there was too much darkness, too much of it around her heart, while the rest was spread out across her side and leg. 

“We ran out of water,” Yerim said. “Two pairs got to us on the way back. One of them when we were running from a bright one." 

_On the way back from where?_ Jinsoul wanted to ask. Instead, she went to Jungeun’s other side. She started to walk them to the camp. 

“No,” Jungeun leaned away, “I need to tell you something.”

“I need to heal you first.” 

“We saw her,” Jungeun said. “She didn’t kill him.” 

In front of her, Viian frowned. She looked between each of them. 

Jinsoul looked in the direction of camp. She could barely hear the bustle from the camp. They wouldn’t be able to hear them either. 

“Stay here.” Jinsoul nodded at Yerim. Together, they got Jungeun down to the ground. 

In the light from Yerim, she looked for where the injuries were. There were claw marks along Jungeun’s neck, but they were faint. Even so, the lines themselves were dark and spindles of light extended away from them. 

At her waist was a worser one. It looked like a bite mark. And her left leg looked as if two animals had clawed at it. 

There was no injury where the darkness would’ve gone to her heart. 

Elre had had more in her heart, but her chest had been pierced by something. What did it mean if the darkness had gone straight for Jungeun’s heart? Would it grow or could she keep it at bay? Elre hadn’t been able to. 

How could Jungeun have let it get this bad? Jinsoul wanted to ask Yerim that then and there, but the question died in her throat. 

Yerim looked guilty, scared, and exhausted. If Jinsoul made that any worse, she’d take long to forgive herself. 

“I’ll get what we need,” Jinsoul said. She handed her waterskin to Yerim. “And be back before you know it.” She’d need to talk to her later. Not about potions, ingredients, or spirits, but about what was happening now. Jinsoul needed to actually be there for Yerim, not just the person teaching her to master her magic. 

With that, she hurried off. She knew Jungeun had been an idiot again. She knew Jungeun had stepped in front of Yerim to protect her from a pair of spirits. She knew Jungeun had taken any blow she could’ve. 

It was always the same. 

When Jinsoul was within earshot of the camp again, she heard angry voices. 

______

Yves should’ve expected it. She should’ve held her tongue the moment they asked for search parties. 

But she hadn’t, because she’d just found out that Hyejoo was near. She’d just found out that mortals had died through darkness and something else. If it was Hyejoo’s doing, they couldn’t let the others find her. They’d just do what they’d done to her fifty years ago. Or worse. 

So the moment she’d told Freya that Chaewon, Jiwoo and her would be one of the five search parties, she should’ve known that Heejin would’ve heard it too. She should’ve known that the girl would assume the worst. Much of what Yves had done since that day had been met with Heejin's scrutiny. And anger. 

“You’re staying here,” Heejin hissed. Beside her was Haseul, who looked a lot less hostile. Behind them was Hyunjin, who only looked at Heejin with increasing concern. 

“They already said we can go.” Yves tried to keep her voice level. “We’ll go the opposite direction you will.” Or at least, they’d see if Chaewon’s bond would still tell them something about where Hyejoo was. 

“You’re not going at all,” she snapped. “I don’t care if you think you’re helping or not, seeing you will just make it worse.”

Yves had no response to that. She knew they’d be lucky if Hyejoo didn’t lash out at them. She knew that Hyejoo would probably run. 

Then again, if she left the country, or at least got far enough away, that’d still be better for Hyejoo. It she wasn’t already far enough away. 

Instead of responding, she stepped away. 

Chaewon and Jiwoo took that as their cues to start walking as well. 

Heejin grabbed her arm and wrenched her back. It was such a harsh movement that Yves stumbled. 

When she righted herself, she nearly flinched at the fury burning in Heejin’s eyes. 

“If this is some twisted way you think’ll make everything better, you’re wrong." Heejin met each of their eyes. “You’re not joining the people hunting her. She didn't kill anyone.”

“We know she didn’t kill them,” Chaewon said quietly. Her eyes didn’t look away from the trees. "We don't want to hurt her."

Heejin rounded on her. “You of all people shouldn’t be talking,” she spat. 

Chaewon winced. Fresh tears began to form. 

If Heejin noticed, she didn’t acknowledge it. 

Yves saw that Haseul had. Her brow was furrowed. 

“What do you think’ll happen if you did find her?” the green-eyed elf asked. She shot Heejin a sharp look.

Surprisingly, the latter stayed silent, but she was still stewing. Yves saw the light within Heejin start to turn grey. Her anger. It made her the perfect target for dark spirits. 

Yves knew she couldn’t warn her. Heejin would pummel her if she did. 

But she saw that Hyunjin was looking where she was. She knew as well. And Heejin would actually let herself be held back by Hyunjin. 

“I don’t know,” Yves admitted. “But we’re not going to hurt her or try and make her come back.” As difficult as it was, she met Heejin’s eyes. “And I know she won’t talk to us. I know that if the rest of you find her, it’ll be better, but I also know that it’s better if we find her than if one of the others do.” If Teveril found her, he’d try to take her back to the elders. Hyejoo wouldn’t let that happen. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jiwoo stiffen. Then she was rushing off. 

Yves looked to where she was going. Jinsoul was holding a large knapsack. The light around her was also turning grey. She was worried sick about something. Yves had a good idea about who that was. 

Yves found herself following. The rest were as well.

“Are they back?” she heard Jiwoo ask. 

She couldn’t help but feel hurt. Another thing Jiwoo had known before telling her. Where had Jungeun been? Who else had been with her? And how had Jiwoo known about it? 

“Yes,” Jinsoul replied. “She’s hurt.” 

“Who is?” Haseul’s voice gave away the tension in her. She’d been getting more and more wound up recently. Too much was being placed on her shoulders. The same for Heejin. 

Jinsoul shook her head, blue eyes flickering back to camp. “Come on.” She met Yves’ eyes once. 

She recognised doubt. 

Then Jiwoo looked back. She nodded. 

It was such a small gesture, but she felt a burst of confidence. Even if Yves was the one becoming an elder, Jiwoo was the one whose word she trusted more than anyone else’s. No one ever saw it, except for a handful. The rest only saw Jiwoo’s smiles and heard her optimistic words, but they never knew how swiftly Jiwoo could act, as if knowing exactly which action would work and which wouldn’t. They didn’t realise how it was Jiwoo who usually led their hunting parties. They didn’t know that it was almost always Jiwoo who knew which dark spirits were benevolent and which weren’t. 

They hurried further away from the camp. Jinsoul and Jiwoo were almost side by side as they broke into a run. 

Yves saw the newcomer, Viian, first. She was already starting to glow. Naturally, Yves hadn’t talked to her yet. She knew Haseul wouldn’t have minded, but Yeojin and Choerry would certainly have. And once she knew the story of Hyejoo, Yves was sure Viian wouldn’t ever want to look at them. 

There was a small fire laced with light. Jungeun’s magic. 

“Can the rest know?” Jinsoul asked. Her tone was gentle. She knelt down beside Jungeun. 

Yves realised then that she was injured. She saw the darkness from different wounds. Choerry had some as well, but enough that she'd heal quickly. 

“Yeah,” Jungeun muttered. 

“What happened?” Heejin sounded less angry and more worried. 

“We went looking for her,” Jungeun said. “We,” she faltered, “I heard something in one of the towns. Yerim and I followed it.”

 _Her_. 

“Did you find her?” Chaewon asked. 

Heejin didn’t even snap to silence her, but she did say something else. “Should they really be here?” Then she nodded at Viian. “Should she?”

The newcomer looked surprised to be spoken to. Then her brow furrowed and her gaze hardened when she looked at Heejin.

“All of you should,” Jungeun shot back. “We found her. She didn’t kill that man.” Her voice was as sharp as Heejin's had been. 

Heejin didn't respond. She looked surprised. 

“And the rest?” Haseul asked. It looked like the question pained her. 

“What rest?” Choerry asked. 

“His guards were also murdered.”

“How?” Jungeun sat up. Then she groaned. 

Jinsoul pushed her down and kept tending to the wounds. “Charred flesh. They said he didn’t look like he did.” They as in the elves who'd been passing through. Now they were going far away, unsettled by the spirits and the stories. 

“That also wasn’t her,” Choerry said. “It was a fairy. He killed them.” She looked between them, her expression uncharacteristically hard. “His magic was lightning.”

“And the darkness?” Hyunjin asked.

“You can’t think that—“ Heejin turned to her. 

“I don’t,” she said. “But why was it there?”

“It wasn’t hers,” Yerim said. “You can go there yourselves. You’ll all know the difference.” She looked at Chaewon then. Yves couldn’t read her gaze. Was it pity Yves saw or distaste? 

Either way, Chaewon looked away. It hurt to see how the mention of Hyejoo made her crumple. 

“Do you know who Alluin is?” Jungeun asked then. 

Yves shook her head at the same time that Haseul said she didn’t. 

“I do,” Hyunjin muttered. 

They all looked. 

Rarely had Yves seen the girl look small. She knew the vulnerability was there, but she’d never been close enough to her to see it like this. 

“He‘s a secret of the older elves,” she said. “Like Hyejoo.” Then she looked at Viian. 

For a moment, Yves thought she’d do what Heejin would have and send her away. 

Instead, she just said, “Hyejoo is the Olivia they've all been talking about. We don’t say her name anymore, because they cast her out.”

______

The mention of Olivia—or was it Hyejoo—had an immediate effect on the elves. All thoughts of this Alluin were gone. 

The expressions of four collapsed into guilt. This included Haseul, Gowon, Chuu, and Yves. Heejin looked angry again. Jungeun and Jinsoul only exchanged looks, their eyes sad, while Choerry’s eyes were filling with tears. 

“She wasn’t just banished,” a new voice said. Someone was behind her. 

Vivi turned immediately, thinking back to when a fairy had last snuck up on her. She'd tried to kill Vivi. Vivi had gotten her first, encasing her in stone and taking her to the other fae. 

Yeojin had somehow snuck up to be beside her. She looked angry. It didn’t seem to fit her, but it was there nonetheless.

“The people she loved turned their backs on her.” She pointed at three, Chuu, Gowon and Yves. Gowon shrank away, Chuu looked down, while Yves held her head high. 

Heejin was still looking at Vivi with that angry edge to her gaze. If the anger was the culmination of this Olivia’s banishment, then Vivi could understand it. She didn’t know it to the degree that Olivia/Hyejoo had faced, but she'd known enough about what a lack of acceptance meant. 

“We don’t have to go through the whole story,” Heejin said. “Just say what we need now.” 

Hyunjin raised an brow at her, but said nothing. She met Vivi’s eyes, looking apologetic. Vivi wouldn’t judge her silence yet. Except for polite conversation, they hadn’t actually spoken much. Haseul had told her the girl was mostly silent, largely because she felt she didn’t have a voice in most situations. Except for just now, where she'd admitted to knowing a man who worked in the literal shadows—elf who'd order the deaths of mortals. 

“I think we should explain,” Haseul replied. She looked to Vivi. “You might’ve come at a mess of a time, but you’re here.” 

“No one else approves,” Heejin cut in. “The elders don’t even want her here. How can you think your words will count for anything more?” 

Jinsoul raised a hand. “Stop it. You know full well she can hear you.”

Heejin waved her off and looked back to Vivi, meeting her eyes. Although her eyes were a pleasant colour, almost complimenting Vivi’s, they were cold. “The rest of them never thought Hyejoo belonged here. They don’t think you do either. So don’t expect me to soften that blow.”

A part of Vivi understood what she meant. A part of her still understood the anger. Surprisingly, it looked like the people who knew Heejin much better than her didn’t. 

“You won’t even try,” Hyunjin said quietly. “You’ll take the easy route now, because you can live with turning your back on her.” The yellow-eyed girl stepped forward and placed herself next to Vivi. Her eyes weren’t angry, but Vivi saw disappointment. 

Heejin recoiled. She couldn’t hide her emotions well, not how Vivi had learned to. She saw pain, but no shame. At least not yet. 

“No,” Vivi said. “She’s right.”

Haseul looked at her, a question in her gaze. Anger still lingered, but it was quickly fading. It seemed she wasn’t the type to get angry very often. 

“I don't belong,” she said. “But I knew I wouldn't no matter where I went.” She chuckled. “You know, the fairies are no better than this, and though they let me grow up among them, all but my immediate family were convinced I did not belong.” 

Vivi took in their expressions. Jinsoul looked like she understood. She did in part, as she’d heard earlier. Haseul looked dejected, as if in disbelief that Vivi would think such a thing. Heejin still stewed below the surface, but her anger wasn’t as explosive as before. Hyunjin’s eyes were on the ground. Instead of disappointment, they now held shame. Jungeun and Yerim were listening, but they looked exhausted. Yeojin was still just angry. 

The rest of the girls, who seemed to be the villains to some, were avoiding the eyes of everyone else. 

“So why shouldn’t I hear this?” _Give me a good reason_ , Vivi thought. “They’ve already started to antagonise her at every mention. Why not ensure I know the truth?” _Say something without hatred_. 

Heejin just shook her head. She couldn't do that. 

“We failed her,” Haseul said. “And before I hear anything else, you know that’s what happened.” Her green eyes were fierce. As much as she seemed to be the more mature of the rest, she also shared the anger of Heejin and Yeojin. “She didn’t have any control over light growing up. Then she developed control over darkness." Her strength faltered for a moment, revealing her pain. It nearly hurt Vivi to see it. "That was fifty years ago." 

“So you threw her out?” Vivi asked. She fought the urge to clench her fists. She gritted her teeth instead. 

“The seers saw it and the elders decided,” Yves said. “She wouldn’t have had a place here otherwise.” 

It sounded a lot as though that belief had been drilled into her, probably driven in deeper by herself. Guilt seemed to be capable of that. 

Yeojin had the same thought. “That’s a lie you tell yourself,” she retorted. 

Pain flashed in Yves’ eyes. She didn’t even try to defend herself. 

“I think I understand,” Vivi said. 

“Understand what?” Gowon looked up, eyes half hopeful, half filled with the guilt from before. Vivi knew she’d crush the hope there and she knew that there was another side to this tale. That didn’t matter. 

She spat into the flames. The pale haired girl flinched. As did a few of the others. Vivi barely felt guilty. 

“Your people will blindly follow the moon’s judgement to push someone out,” Vivi muttered. “But you’ll question it when you‘re told to accept someone in.” She looked back to Heejin. “And you don’t want me here, because you doubt the moon. Olivia was banished, which you feel was wrong. I’ve been brought here and you think that’s wrong as well.”

Heejin didn’t respond. Vivi knew she was right. 

“What did they tell you?” She looked to Chuu, Gowon, and Yves. “For you to have,” she nodded at Yeojin, “turned your backs on her?” 

Gowon was crying, but when she spoke, her voice was steady. “They said that darkness will always overcome someone’s heart, even if not intended. They said she was a danger to us all.” 

Never had Vivi heard someone speak with less confidence, than she had in that moment. She pitied the girl. 

She felt the tension rise between the girls. She saw the glares some gave Gowon. Fifty years had passed since then, but it was clear that the situation was far from being resolved. Vivi wouldn’t be able to reach any sort of conclusion there. She also didn’t want to. This sort of thing was beyond her. 

And even if they’d been in favour of her staying, Olivia had been cast out, left to deal with her own magic and the other threats out there. These people had the means to find her. And they’d never looked. 

“I suppose that makes me a danger as well.” Vivi called up some rock from the ground. She let it flow through the air, a seemingly useless stream of stone. “But to your beliefs.”

No one replied. Jinsoul still worked on cleaning an ugly wound on Jungeun’s leg. Whatever love she felt for the injured girl, it was on full display now. Vivi almost wished that Yerim and Jungeun could fully explain what had happened with Hyejoo and what they’d learned. The revelation that Hyunjin knew about someone no one else did seemed to have been forgotten. What if they were all missing some important piece to this puzzle?

“I’ll make the rest of this easier,” Vivi said. “And be on my way.” It wasn’t going to be forever. She still needed to learn how to harness her magic. She didn’t have many other places to go either. 

And she didn’t want to live her life alone. She was starting to like some of the people here. She was also starting to realise that there was more depth to them than she’d first suspected. Even Heejin, the most hateful of the ten elves, had her reasons for acting as she had. Amazingly those reasons had barely even considered Vivi’s blood, even if they were the wrong ones. 

A hand took her arm. Its warmth was comforting. “You can’t go out alone. It’s too dangerous.” Haseul’s gaze nearly held her in place. 

“I’m not completely useless,” Vivi replied. She forced the liquid stone to become a sword. She coated the blade with moonlight, but not so much that it would glow too brightly. It’d do as an initial defence. “And I have a very good grip on my other magic.”

“Which can’t always fight what’ll go after you,” Jinsoul added. “Not that easily at least.” Her eyes flicked back to Jungeun then. 

That message was clear: _this one can’t even handle it._

“Before, no,” Vivi said. “But with what little I know now, it might.” 

“Key word,” Haseul stepped forward, turning Vivi around, “little.” Her green eyes were pleading, all anger from before had vanished. “You don’t know what you’ll encounter.” 

“So I should stay here and face this?” she asked, nodding at the still silent Heejin. “What I see and hear is nothing I’d like to experience for the rest of my life. I should at least be able to take breaks from it.” She freed herself from Haseul’s grasp. It wasn’t difficult. “And be on my own while I do it.” 

"Just," Haseul took another step, "if you see a pale spirit and their light feels wrong, or it looks at you with anything other than curiosity, you run. There's no fighting one of those."

Vivi just nodded. Then she walked away. It was a terrible war of beliefs to have stumbled upon. Even in a group where all ten girls seemed to want to help, they were divided. And that wasn’t even counting the people who genuinely wanted to hunt someone down. 

Vivi hardly wanted to think about that. Already, she’d begun to feel pain for someone she didn’t know. 

Some people had been surprised that this Olivia was even alive. They’d lived their lives almost completely normal, believing she was dead after they’d cast her out. 

And now, people thought that she’d massacred a group of mortals. If Vivi had heard right, this wasn’t the first time they’d thought she'd done something terrible. 

Jungeun and Yerim had said she hadn’t killed these ones, but had she done it before? Vivi didn’t know how the darkness worked, but it seemed to swallow people up if they were struck with it. There’d been two deaths since Vivi’s arrival. She’d caught one glimpse of a victim, Elre. Her eyes had been completely black, her skin riddled with lines of the same colour, almost as if her blood had been corrupted as well. 

What happened if you were in control of that same darkness? Then again, hadn’t Heejin also told her about ‘good’ darkness? Could Olivia have both? 

Vivi hoped she was alright. She hoped there was no corruption, nor pain in this girl. Perhaps, if the Astra truly were wrong to believe the moon, the girl could still have a home. And if the moon did indeed have a plan, maybe it wasn’t so dastardly to force another from her home. If that were the case, then it was just the flawed beliefs of the Astra. Or it was just a horrible plan, made from an unfeeling presence in the night sky. 

Vivi wasn’t sure where she fit there. As she walked, she could only think of how much better it would be if the elves behind her could realise they wanted the same thing. Even if what those other three had done was unforgivable, their guilt and shame was obvious enough. They _knew_ they’d done something terrible. 

The thought made her pause. She’d seen how Olivia’s absence affected each of the ten girls, from the glimpses of it she’d caught in Jinsoul and Jungeun, to the waves of emotion coming from Heejin and Yeojin. Haseul had fallen somewhere in the middle. She was far from healing. 

_We failed her_. 

_I failed her_ , was probably the thought that Haseul was stuck with. The green-eyed elf was probably going to take it upon herself to fix what she could. From organising search parties that’d avoid hurting Olivia, to going out there herself, either to protect the girl or to give her back the family she’d lost. 

Vivi shook her head at that. This was a heavy burden, one Vivi had never needed to bear. It was one she never wanted to have either. The person to solve those problems wouldn’t be her. Whether or not she was ready for it, Haseul was the best option for that. She'd probably be able to handle it alone. 

She kept walking, leaving behind all thoughts of the elves and whatever fate they faced now. Her focus would be on surviving these next nights by herself. Spirits would probably try and attack her, no matter how much she hoped they wouldn’t. 

Even so, she’d rather have that than spend the night with people who’d turned their backs on one of their own. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now the story-lines are properly beginning to merge. I know there was a lot of setup and we still haven't followed all of them fully, but I'm really hoping it'll have paid off going forward. 
> 
> This chapter dealt more with the reaction to what happened last chapter. And we'll still be dealing with the fallout of it in the next ones. Decisions were made with actual consequences, not just regarding what actually happened. 
> 
> If you've any thoughts about what's happened or what could happen (or what you want to happen, though I can't promise I'll deliver), I'd love to read them! 


	16. Paths

Note: there's a scene that describes the aftermath of a lot of violence. It's descriptive and may be unsettling, so if you're uncomfortable, feel free to skip over it. 

______

Yeojin felt her presence before she saw her. The ground trembled slightly, while the scent of dirt and the trees became slightly more pronounced. 

It wasn’t even a surprise. Yeojin had actually been watching out for those changes. She’d known the elf would come. 

“Where’re you going?” Choerry asked. She bound over. That incessant smile was on her face. 

“I don’t have to tell you that.”

She wasn’t fazed. She hardly ever was. “No, because I already know.” Her purple eyes glittered. “And neither you nor I should be doing it.”

“Then _you_ don’t have to.” Yeojin kept walking. “But you will,” she muttered. 

Surprisingly, this wasn’t unusual. Choerry somehow knew when Yeojin was going off with Yuqi or someone else and when she wasn’t. 

There were times when she came along even when Yeojin wasn’t alone. On those days, they came across more spirits, both good and bad dark spirits, as well as bad bright ones. 

Other times, Choerry didn’t manage to find her when she went off by herself. And Yeojin had a more uneventful time, encountering only a handful of spirits, most of them good. 

Sometimes, Yeojin wondered if the spirits were drawn to Choerry. Others, she wondered if Choerry had some unconscious access to the future. 

Mostly, however, Yeojin thought it was because the two of them were less-than-tolerated acquaintances. She didn’t like the older girl’s smile, while the latter had a bone to pick with Yeojin’s ‘recklessness and restlessness’. 

“Do you even know where you’re going?” Choerry fell into step beside her. “Or were you planning on asking directions in terrible Korean?” 

Yeojin glared at her. “I was gonna figure it out myself.”

She shrugged. “Could’ve just asked me. We did all that work for oyu.” A small smile. “It’s called efficiency.”

Fighting the urge to shove her, Yeojin kept walking. She knew the girl was right. She just hated the way she was saying it. 

But Yeojin also remembered yesterday and how Choerry’s smile had vanished completely. She almost preferred the smugness to that. Almost. 

“It’s this way.” Choerry turned them left. 

After a few seconds, Yeojin heard Choerry exhale. It wasn’t a sigh, but it also wasn’t something to dismiss. 

She still dismissed it. 

Choerry didn’t make idle conversation or pull on the branches and roots to either smack her on the head, or trip her. 

Another thing Yeojin didn’t pay much mind to. 

“Why do you want to go there?” 

Yeojin glanced at her. Choerry was looking at the ground, a weird furrow in her brow. 

“I’ve heard enough stories,” Yeojin said. “I need to see these things for myself.”

“This was a massacre,” Choerry replied. “Something she didn’t even do. Why do you have to see that?” 

She frowned. “Did you come here to help me or bring me back?” 

“Both.” Choerry sighed. “It’s your decision, but I’m here so you don’t get lost here if you decide to go.” She waved at the forest. 

Those words bothered her. Yeojin didn’t stop to figure out why. “You didn’t even see them, you didn’t know what’d happened.” 

“I know enough,” she snapped. 

Yeojin blinked. She’d never seen Choerry get impatient or anything close to angry. 

Around them, the branches had started too curl. Even the ground felt a bit more unstable. 

“We saw him alive,” Choerry muttered. “He’d seen Hyejoo. He’d been terrified.”

“Serves him right.” Yeojin clenched her fist. If she’d been in Hyejoo’s position, she might’ve even gone through with it. 

Whether or not she agreed, Choerry didn’t show it. She just told her the detailed version of what’d happened after and how they’d seen Hyejoo. How she’d told them not to tell anyone. 

“Then why did you?” Yeojin turned to look at her. “They’re _hunting_ her now.”

“They were looking for her anyway,” she replied. “Not one of the other girls thought it’d have been her. They’d be going after someone they’d think was a threat. They wouldn’t be trying to _find_ her—to protect her.”

Yeojin couldn’t argue with that. “And the real threat’s dead, right? She killed him.”

Choerry nodded. 

“But he’d have lived longer,” she said. “He would’ve lived even longer. And he was like her right, cast out?” Yes, he’d killed, but at least one of them had deserved it. Had this fairy deserved it?

“Mortals are powerless, Yeojin.” Choerry’s voice was almost empty, yet it still held a tremor. “And the fairy killed even more than the one he was sent for. Those men had families and lives they could’ve lived to old age.”

She bit back a retort. She knew, again, that Choerry was right. She also wasn’t smug this time. 

Yeojin didn’t really like what she saw in purple eyes now. It wasn’t exactly cold or even sad, but something in between. 

They walked in silence. Amazingly, only one spirit came their way. They turned it easily. 

Yeojin had sensed others, but they’d been good light and dark ones. 

And as she kept looking for spirits—it was too good to be true that no other spirits were coming after them—she saw something else. A person. Yellow streaked through the pale light surrounding them. 

“We’re being followed.”

Choerry nodded. “Hyunjin.” She turned around, suddenly expectant, but surprised. 

Then the light started to move faster. She was running over. 

Normally, Yeojin would’ve had it with being constantly monitored. When Hyejoo had first been banished, Yeojin hadn’t been able to go anywhere without Jungeun, Hyunjin, or Haseul coming after her. She also knew that Choerry had been monitored just as much, only that she’d been held back by Jinsoul. There’d been something wrong with her other magic. Yeojin didn’t remember. 

She didn’t think she’d asked. 

“Gone to see it first?” Hyunjin asked. “Haseul’ll hate you being gone all this time.”

Choerry smirked. “But you’re here. Our fine protector.”

Hyunjin ruffled her hair. “I’m damage control.”

“For what damage?” Yeojin looked up at her. She didn’t like how much she had to crane her neck. She did that for almost everyone. 

She shrugged. “Mortal property for one,” she squinted at Choerry, “and cultural misunderstandings.” Her gaze went to Yeojin. 

She raised her hands. “No one ever told me their language had honorifics and all that.”

“Yes they did,” Choerry said. “Yuqi excels. She also doesn’t curse people out.” 

“That hag tried to cheat me.” Yeojin reached behind Hyunjin, fully intending to pinch the purple-eyed girl. 

She didn’t succeed. Choerry had already stepped out of reach. Was Yeojin _that_ predictable?

“And the damage to each other.” Hyunjin grinned. “I’m amazed you both made it out of here without a brawl.”

They were both silent. 

“If Jinsoul knew about that,” she began. “With all the injuries she’s healed of yours.”

“She won’t,” Choerry said hurriedly. 

Yeojin snickered. 

“And Haseul?”

“She’s used to it.”

Hyunjin sighed. 

“You’re saying you never tried to beat Heejin up?” Yeojin had seen the two when everything had been fine—before the bond. They’d either huddled together, shot remarks and playful jabs at each other, or both. 

“Now I do.” There wasn’t much humour there. 

Yeojin wasn’t all that oblivious to love. She just really didn’t care for it like the others her age and above did. Not yet. There also weren’t any real candidates. 

Immortality also made ‘courting’ really messy. At some point, everyone might’Ve been somebody else’s ex-partner and another’s future counterpart. 

Too complicated. Unnecessary too. 

But she did know exactly what was between Heejin and Hyunjin. It was another example of messed up their world was that neither of them could be together. 

“Why’re you out here?” Choerry asked. Yeojin was half-surprised that she didn’t already know. 

“Sick of me already?” 

“Yes,” she grinned, “but I thought you were on guard.”

“Haseul let me off,” Hyunjin replied. “And training with Heejin is cut in half. The other sessions can wait.” A pause. “So babysitting was the next best thing.”

Something was missing from that explanation. 

Instead of commenting on it, Yeojin whacked her arm. Her hand just smacked against muscle. 

The taller girl laughed. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

She hit her again. That just made Hyunjin laugh harder. Choerry joined in. 

Yeojin found herself smiling. If she could get these two feeling better, then she’d have done something right. For once.

______

“You’re serious?” Jungeun tried to give Jinsoul her best glare. It was terrible. She knew that by Jinsoul’s infuriating chuckle. There was also the added fact that staring daggers at the person healing you didn’t work. Even if they were telling you everything you _didn’t_ want to hear. 

“Your body’s exhausting itself healing both real wounds and working against the darkness.” Jinsoul gave her a stern look. “Some sicknesses need at least a week of complete rest. This’s three days. Maximum.”

“I hate it when you go full healer on me.” She sighed. She wasn’t sure if she was telling the truth there. “You know I hate this.”

Jinsoul grinned. “And that’s exactly why I can’t trust you to sit still for longer than an hour.”

She frowned at her. What was that supposed to mean?

Jinsoul winked back. “I’ll be visiting you.” Then she walked over. “Drink.” 

Jungeun drank. The water was almost too warm. She knew it was because she was too cold. 

Jinsoul began to change the bandages. She soaked the new ones in moonlight-infused water. Id did wonders against how much those wounds ached. 

“You’re not using too much?” Jungeun asked. “Yoona and Yuri were hit bad today.”

“The younger ones are getting water. I’ll treat it with the light Nuala gathered.” She knelt down beside the cot. “And they’ll be fine. Just like you will.” Her deep blue eyes bordered on desperate with how much conviction was in them. 

Jungeun knew why that was. She’d heard too late that Elre had died. It’d been while Jungeun was away. She’d known how hard Jinsoul had tried to save her. And she hadn’t been there. 

“It wasn’t your fault.” Jungeun took her hand. It was so much warmer to the touch. Normally, Jinsoul’s was always cool. “Too much had reached her heart. She hadn’t had enough in the first place.”

Jinsoul closed her eyes. “We could’ve had enough. If people hadn’t been going off, more could’ve been given. If there’d been more of the moon—”

“If, if, if,” she tightened her grip on her hands, “and nothing will change what happened. The moon’s coming out now and Heejin’s working on getting hunt numbers down.” 

The older elf scoffed. “We need patrols and hunting parties. They have to find the threat.” Her sneer was countered by sad eyes. 

“I know.”

“And we’re not the ones who make those decisions.” Jinsoul sighed. Her shoulders fell. 

“But we do know people who can. They’re trying.”

She shrugged. 

Jungeun knew this look well. She knew that Jinsoul had gone through this even before coming to the Astra. While she’d never been an elder, Jinsoul had certainly gotten a say in things as one of the main healers of her people. So much so that the responsibilities she’d gotten had overwhelmed her several times over the years. Next to the threat of conflict with other elves (usually from the sea), fairies, and other creatures, Jinsoul had been both tending to their wounds and teaching others to use their water magic. 

So when she’d come here, Jinsoul hadn’t needed to bear those same responsibilities anymore. She’d hated it at first, terrified that she was leaving her people to a worser state than before. It’d started slowly, but Jungeun had been there to help Jinsoul get used to the lack of responsibility. Before she’d been roped in to become a healer again, Jinsoul had even started enjoying it. 

Jungeun still remembered the first proper smile she’d gotten out of her. It’d taken time for Jinsoul to properly trust her and not just see her as the only other person who knew what she was going through. Shared experiences meant little if there wasn’t a deeper form of trust. And when Jungeun had managed to get that, Jinsoul had started smiling. 

And now she’d been called on to devote her life to healing others again—to trying everything to save them. Jungeun knew the stress from that would rise quickly. She knew that the burden had returned. 

She needed to find a way she could help. 

“What can we do?” Jungeun asked. 

Jinsoul’s eyes widened. “We?” She said the word as if it was something precious. As if she’d not said it in years. 

Jungeun felt guilty. 

“You, me, and Yerim.” She squeezed her hand. “When you finally let me walk, we’ll do exactly what we used to.” 

“You’ll wait for me?” Jinsoul’s eyes sparkled more than usual. 

Jungeun had trouble _not_ looking into them. “I’ll wait.”

“And I’ll hold you to that.” Jinsoul smiled. 

Jungeun felt her chest swell at the sight. The ache there subsided. She was always happy when she got Jinsoul to smile. She hadn’t been doing that lately. Now she would. 

______

Nearing the house, Hyunjin caught hold of both girls’ arms. This was the main reason she was here. She was planning to go the next day, but as soon as she realised that Yeojin and Yerim were off, she cancelled that plan. 

Now that she was seeing it, now that she could feel the violence that still clung to the house, she needed to try and turn them away. Already, she knew it probably wasn’t going to work. 

“This isn’t like seeing one body and having that as your impactful life experience,” Hyunjin said. “Even if there’s not that much blood or outright gore, this was a slaughter.”

She remembered going after a rogue vampire coven. Their feeding grounds had been a village. There’d been survivors. That’d almost made it worse. 

“I can do it,” Yeojin said, while Yerim nodded. 

Hyunjin had thought that too. 

“I know,” she replied. “But if you don’t want it to haunt you, you’d stay out.” Yooa had given her that same warning. Hyunjin hadn’t taken it seriously. She still wished that she had. 

And when she saw the defiance in orange and purple eyes, she knew her words hadn’t made a difference. 

“It’s not a test of your strength,” Hyunjin whispered. “I’ve seen things like this, but it doesn’t mean I’m strong. There’re people who haven’t and they’re twice the person I am.” Immediately, she thought of Heejin. 

“And then there’re people like Priad who’ll talk about this place as if he’s seen it,” Yeojin said. “He’ll be blaming Hyejoo for it without having even felt what’s around here.” She looked at the house. Thankfully, she looked wary. “I’ll have seen it. I can make sure people know they’re wrong.” 

The darkness within the house was unmistakable. While a lot of spirits just had more darkness and that made them harder to fight, others had the darkness that came with death and murder. That took a lot of light to turn. The wounds they left were difficult to heal. Else had been one of those attacked by one. 

And she’d died. 

So now Hyunjin waited for that darkness to scare these two away. She waited to spot the doubt. Yeojin either held it down, or she was absolutely convinced of what she’d just said. 

Hyunjin was proud. She was also sad to see that Yeojin’s conviction had to be shown when it came to brutality like this. 

Yerim looked equally resolute, but she didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. 

Hyunjin nodded. Then she let them go. 

The wood of the door melted. Yerim’s work. It was completely dark in the house. 

She went in first. The cold flooded her. Her stomach twisted at the feeling of the darkness. It already tried to creep over to her. She called on her light to fight it. That illuminated the scene before them. 

Hyunjin saw the first body. Down its front, the cloth was charred, revealing blackened flesh. His face wasn’t recognisable. The skin upon it might’ve been melted or torn off. Hyunjin looked away before she could figure it out. 

The smell reached her in the next moment. She covered her nose. Her eyes began to burn. 

Yeojin gagged. Yerim gasped. 

It kept going. The guards had charged into the house, either alerted by the house’s owner or their friends. They’d rushed in, only to be cut down in the next second. 

Swords had been melted. Hyunjin chose to focus on the deformed metal as she walked through the carnage. 

“I know that one,” Yerim whispered. “He told us about what happened. He’d helped us.”

The man was young. His eyes were wide. The fairy’s magic had been lightning. It’d pierced through his chest, leaving a gaping wound, its edges completely scorched. 

Hyunjin looked away. Only now did she notice how cold the house was. There was so much darkness. She didn’t know what they were looking for. She had no idea where the target would be. The fairy had branded them all as one. 

“This way.” Yerim stepped over the mortal she’d pointed out. She went straight for a door further down the hall. 

She didn’t open it. 

Hyunjin reached her and knew why. There was both the darkness of death and fear as before, but another had dined. There was anger, one that churned slowly in the mind. It was a cold sort of fury. 

Yeojin was on her other side. She was the one who opened the door. 

The smell that greeted them was sweet, as though a bakery had made something with the dark sweet that the mortals ate—was it chocolate? 

That scent was joined with rot. 

Then she saw him. She suddenly hated how their skin was able to illuminate a room to the extent that it did. 

He was slumped against the wall. A large smear of black blood was left above him. There were dark lines all across his skin. His eyes were open. They were completely black. His jaw was slack. He seemed to look at them through empty eyes. His clothes had been soaked completely with black blood. It’d dried now. 

In front of him, there lay a deformed black lump. Two actually. Whatever it’d been before, it was torn in half. 

Hyunjin looked back at the man. Through the ruined clothes, she realised that a portion of his chest was missing. She was glad that the sight was black from blood and darkness. Had she seen the decay there, she would’ve been pushed past her limit. 

“He tore out his heart,” Yerim said. 

Yeojin retched. 

Hyunjin turned to help her out of the house, but Yerim beat her to it. 

“This’s enough,” she said. “Isn’t it?” 

Yeojin nodded. Her eyes were watering, but Hyunjin knew she’d already been crying. 

Once Haseul knew where they’d been—what they’d seen, she’d be devastated. As would Jinsoul and Jungeun. Hyunjin didn’t even want to think of what Yeojin’s parents would think. 

The wall of the house parted. The two started walking towards it, their steps hurried. They were glad to be leaving. So was Hyunjin. 

“Go to a tavern, or explore their nightly market,” Hyunjin told them. “But eat and drink something warm. No matter the cost.” She tossed them a small bag of money. 

Yerim frowned. “And you?” Her eyes kept going to the mortal. When had she started to be able to handle this? Or was she just that good at hiding it? Hyunjin didn’t like what that meant either. 

Some of the older elves talked about watching them grow up with smiles on their faces, cherishing how immortality allowed a person to grow. And yet other elves cautioned of other changes, the sadder ones. 

Hyunjin knew well what the others had spoken of now. 

“I,” she began, “I’ll need some time.”

Thankfully, Yerim just nodded. Then she left. The wall reformed. It looked as if it hadn’t been disturbed in the first place. 

Hyunjin took a deep breath. The air was revolting. There was burnt and rotting flesh, and then there was the strangely sweet scent. 

Still, she needed to breathe. She felt the anger and pain each time. Anyone who came in now, be they immortal or mortal, would feel this deep sense of _wrong_. The darkness would lunge for their exposed hearts. It’d haunt them for years on end. Not even the families of the dead would be able to enter the house to retrieve the bodies. 

Unless the darkness was gone. 

Hyunjin drew on even more light. She let it fill the room. She forced it towards the broken black heart and into the man’s body. The light destroyed much of the darkness. Some of it fled across the floor. Some of it went straight for her. 

Hyunjin turned away from the man, no longer full of darkness, but still dead. 

She did the same for the rest of the house. The cold had numbed her fingers. The darkness surrounding her was drawn to her. It would come no matter what she did. 

Short pulses of rage came to her. She felt betrayed. She felt abandoned. 

This was the Alluin her parents had defended. This was the Alluin the Astra had thrown out. They’d turned away because of the very magic that was trying to work its way into her now. 

Hyunjin knew why they’d been afraid of him. She knew why they were meant to fear the dark. If it was used like this, it had to be evil. 

But it’d only been used like this because he’d been banished. 

_And Hyejoo didn’t do this_ , she thought. Hyejoo had had the choice and she’d chosen not to kill. Had that led to more death? Yes, but not by Hyejoo’s hand or even her wish. The fairy had done this. He’d wanted to kill them all. Alluin had sent him here. 

Hyunjin had to remember that. Yeojin was right: few would remember, or even experience this for themselves. No one else was coming to the site of the murders. Some didn’t, because they didn’t want to subject themselves to seeing something so horrific, which Hyunjin more than understood. 

Others didn’t want what was happening to Hyunjin now. She also wished she didn’t have to go through with it. Even though it needed to be done, few wanted to get rid of the darkness themselves. A piece of it always managed to survive the light. It always managed to reach you. It always tried to corrupt you as it did a bright spirit. 

And those wounds always took time to heal. They took time and more light. 

Hyunjin closed her eyes. She kept destroying the darkness. She kept absorbing what survived. When they got back, everyone would see it. They’d know she’d cleared the house of one horror. Either the elders or soon-to-be elders would contact the fae. They’d help the people rationalise what they’d seen. They’d make them forget the worst of the details. 

Lost in her thoughts, Hyunjin lost her grip. Either the light she had within her wasn’t enough, or the darkness was too great. 

It surged towards her. 

Hyunjin didn’t move. She knew she couldn’t dodge what came at her. So she summoned more light. It tugged at her heart and her head, but she kept taking out light. Even if it didn’t pierce your skin, the darkness could still cause wounds that could kill you. 

She forced the light to eat away at what it could. Some still came to her.

A cold ache had started to settle into her body. 

Hyunjin tried to summon more. A spike of pain pierced her head. 

More darkness came. 

Then it stopped. 

A soft glow had come into the room. It wasn’t Hyunjin’s light, or Yerim’s or Yeojin’s. 

It was a yellow cat. It was quickly turning black. Its paws were on the ground in front of Hyunjin. The spindles of darkness were all flowing towards it. 

Hyunjin didn’t think then. She grabbed the cat and lifted it up. Its warmth was leaving it, but it was soft to the touch. 

It meowed and looked up at her. Its eyes were a startlingly bright shade of pink. 

Hyunjin realised then that its head was still yellow. Along its body were patches of black. They didn’t move to overcome the entire spirit. 

The rest of the darkness moved away from the two of them. 

It flowed into another person at the door. Yerim. 

She hissed when it came to her, but her eyes were wide as she looked at Hyunjin. 

“Are you alright?” She sounded out of breath. “You said you needed a moment, but that was an hour ago. Then I saw—” She cut off. “What happened?” 

Hyunjin looked from her and back to the cat. It still stared at her with those pink eyes. 

“I think,” she frowned, “it saved me?”

The cat replied, “aeong.” 

“Was that a yes?” Yeojin was frowning. She looked worried, but leagues better than earlier. 

An hour ago, according to Yerim. Had it really been that long? Being exposed for a few minutes wasn’t good. Had Hyunjin fainted? Or completely lost track of time?

She didn’t know, only that she was awake now. The ache in her hadn’t faded, but she didn’t feel as if the darkness had overcome her completely. She felt cold, but not lost. She felt angry, but not enraged. That had to mean something good. 

And then there was the spirit that’d saved her. 

She set it down. It trotted over to Yerim. 

Hyunjin followed. 

“Are you really okay?” Yeojin asked. Her brow was furrowed. “If we’d have known what you were trying to do, we’d—” 

“It’s done,” Hyunjin said. “And it’s not that bad.” She flexed her hands. “Just needs some time and light, then I’ll be good as new.” 

They both nodded. Then their attention went to the cat. 

Hyunjin walked with them. She was quickly starting to feel tired. The ache was still there. Hopefully, when the next full moon came, Hyunjin would be able to start healing properly.

That was when her legs gave out. The world turned black. For a moment, Hyunjin thought the darkness had crossed some threshold. 

Before her face met the earth, she realised it was the exhaustion taking hold of her. 

______

Choerry watched the ground for paths that’d cross theirs. She only found those of raindrops. 

She practiced tuning them out. It was much like looking at a tree and not focusing on the individual leaves. 

At first, she’d gotten the worst headaches trying to sift through the paths. It Jinsoul had barely managed to temper them, only really succeeding with elixirs. 

She thought of Jinsoul’s desperation when she hadn’t known what else to do. Choerry still felt guilty for that. With all that was happening, she needed to tell her. Too many questions were coming up. And though Jungeun would never tell anyone unless allowed to, Choerry knew she hated to lie to Jinsoul. 

Even though she’d made up her mind about telling the truth, Choerry was scared. Not only was she going to admit to Jinsoul that she’d been lying to her for years, but she was also going to admit that she saw the future. 

Jinsoul was someone who’d always found seers unnerving (Choerry had, and still did, even after becoming one). If a seer told her that someone’s light had faded and they’d be dead the next day, Jinsoul would give that person so much light in order to change their fate. There’d been a few times when she had been able to save them. 

And it was because seers acted like their word was final that Jinsoul had found herself hating them. 

Choerry was almost fully certain that Jinsoul would look past that for her, just as Jungeun had. That didn’t mean she wasn’t terrified of having that conversation. 

She closed her eyes. She’d known that man would die. She hadn’t realised that the guards had also been at risk. Had it just been a spur-of-the-moment decision? 

Choerry wondered what she could’ve done. Had she made Jungeun stay, could they have protected those mortals? Could they have fought the fairy and his lightning? Choerry knew she wouldn’t have been able to do it alone, but Jungeun was one of the most skilled fighters she knew. Together, she knows they could’ve done it. 

Then again, when he’d realised they were there, she’d felt her death looming over her. Maybe she wouldn’t have survived if they’d stayed. Jungeun would’ve, but would she have been worse off for it? On their way back, they’d have still attracted spirits. Jungeun would’ve been left weaker for it. And she’d have been alone. Choerry wasn’t sure if she’d have survived the way back.

And if she had, there’d have been more darkness. She might’ve ended up like Elre, with Jinsoul trying her damnedest to save her. If Jinsoul had tried and failed to save Jungeun, Choerry wasn’t sure what would’ve happened. Jinsoul was able to hide it well, but she always worried for the two of them when they went on patrol. She worried because Choerry wasn’t yet so experienced and Jungeun was still too reckless. She worried because that combination could lead to them never coming back again, or coming back broken. 

And if they’d stayed to protect the mortals, the two of them could’ve very well never come back. Were the lives of those mortals really worth sacrificing themselves? As much as the dilemma disgusted her, Choerry had an answer. Jungeun’s life was in no way worth that. She wanted to say that her own was, but that didn’t have the confidence in that statement. If she’d actually known how the man would’ve died, how others would have died with him, would she have actually stayed behind? 

The answer was no. Jungeun would’ve stayed. She would’ve firmly believed that they could’ve saved those men and she would’ve wanted to. 

Choerry wasn’t even sure if she’d have wanted to. If it had been just the man at stake, she’d have left him. For her, it _had_ just been the man. The guards hadn’t had any dark paths in front of them. If she’d only known they’d been at risk—

She gritted her teeth. She hadn’t stayed behind. She hadn’t known that the other guards were going to die. She hadn’t even known that the fairy was coming. 

The mortals had died. The fairy had tried to kill Jungeun and Choerry as well. Hyejoo had saved them. 

That was what’d happened. And she couldn’t change that. 

Hyunjin stirred then. She whimpered, but kept sleeping. Her brow was furrowed. A nightmare?

Yerim and Yeojin had tried to take the darkness away, but it hadn’t worked. Even giving her light hadn’t done much. The darkness had buried itself in her. 

At one point, Choerry had stopped them. It’d earned her a glare from Yeojin. 

“We have to help her. She’s still freezing.”

“We still have a while to go,” Choerry had told her. “If we don’t have enough, it won’t matter if she’s warm enough or not.”

Yeojin had stared at her. She’d looked stunned. 

Choerry grimaced thinking about it. She didn’t like how she’d sounded either, but they needed to get back with at least one of them in good condition. They needed to get back with all of them alive. 

The cat spirit had laid down beside Hyunjin. It was still there.

Between the two was a bond of white and dark grey. Choerry couldn’t help but think of Hypnos then. There was a bond between them as well, but it was just grey. 

What light remained in the cat matched Hyunjin’s eyes. Except for the spirit’s own eyes. They were distinctly bright pink. What did those two things mean? And what of the cat being partially turned? 

“She’s cute,” Yeojin said. 

Choerry hummed. 

They were quiet again. Choerry watched an insect fly along its path. There was no divergence to do a fancy dive or even turn off south or west. It just did as it was supposed to. Its path was dark a way’s away from them. A bird probably awaited the insect. 

“Wanna talk about it?”

Choerry looked up. Yeojin looked back at her, her brow furrowed. 

That was weird. Yeojin could care less about her and what she thought, let alone felt. Not once had they ever talked about Hyejoo. Even though the two of them were the perfect ones to talk about it with each other. 

“Why?”

She shrugged. Of course. “Normally, you’d be talking my ears off by now.” 

“I’m tired.”

“That never stopped you before.” There was no bite to that statement. Yeojin just started looking into the fire. Her eyes matched it. 

Choerry swallowed her next words. She knew it’d have been too harsh. The other girl had seen exactly what she had. She was as shaken and disgusted as Choerry was by what’d happened, but she was sure Yeojin wasn’t thinking about how she could’ve saved them—and had decided not to. 

But what they probably did have in common was that they both regretted being stubborn enough to see the bodies in the first place. 

And if Choerry knew anything about Yeojin, it was that she avoided talking about this sort of thing. She wanted her to speak because her thoughts had gotten too loud. 

“I have a spirit who follows me too.” 

Yeojin straightened. Some of her troubled expression faded. 

Choerry tugged at the bond. Hypnos was usually near, but he avoided Astra. Of course he did. Their magic burned him. 

“He’s called Hypnos. He’s a dark spirit.” 

“He?” 

Choerry didn’t know how to answer that. 

Thankfully, Yeojin did it for her. “You just knew?”

She nodded. 

There was the sound of wings flapping. Then rustling leaves. 

The cat stood and hissed. 

Hypnos dropped down at Choerry’s side. He stumbled. Then his eyes locked on Yeojin. He looked wary. 

“It’s alright,” Choerry patted his head, “it’s safe.”

“What is that?” Hyunjin mumbled. 

“Choerry’s friend,” Yeojin replied. Then she chuckled. “Cool.”

The cat hadn’t fled, nor had it attacked. It’d sat down. Now it watched Hypnos with its odd eyes. Choerry thought of Heejin when she saw them. 

She didn’t mention that. Hyunjin had most likely already noticed. Choerry also didn’t feel like bring _that_ complicated topic up. 

The two of them helped Hyunjin sit up. She was stronger than earlier, but still weak. She kept saying that she just needed time. Choerry hoped desperately that she was right. 

Hyunjin had always helped her with combat when Jungeun was away (which was a lot). She was both patient and insistent. 

Choerry couldn’t bear to see how little light Hyunjin’s path held. She could only hope that when they got back and Jinsoul saw them that the path would finally brighten. She knew she’d do anything to make that happen. 

“How long?” Yeojin asked. 

Choerry was relieved to see the girl actually looking curious. She was at least taking Yeojin’s thoughts away from that house. 

“Forty years,” she replied. “At least.” He’d come after Hyejoo had been cast out. Choerry didn’t say fifty years. She didn’t want that connection to be made. 

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Hyunjin inched closer. “He’s cute.”

Surprisingly, Hypnos didn’t back away. Even so, Hyunjin didn’t touch him. Choerry was grateful for that. She still wasn’t sure if full Astrans could touch a spirit without hurting it—even if that spirit wasn’t aggressive. 

_Why didn’t you tell us sooner?_ Choerry knew that same question would be in Jinsoul’s mind soon. If Chuu ever opened up, it’d be on Yves and Gowon’s as well. 

“I didn’t know if he’d like Astra.” And she’d lumped him in with secrets she’d keep. Jungeun and Jinsoul knew about him. He’d followed her on one of their rare patrols. Jinsoul loved him. Jungeun didn’t show it, but she’d slowly started to like his presence. 

He hadn’t come with them on the way to Hyejoo. Choerry still didn’t know why. 

Yeojin frowned. “You’re Astra. Even if you weren’t born it.”

Not the person Choerry expected to hear reassurance from. She also hadn’t expected her to comment on Choerry’s word-choice. 

She just nodded. She was technically Astra, but it’d be a stretch to say she felt like one as well. 

“If you want, you can tell Viian about him?” Hyunjin said. “I don’t think she’s seen a benevolent dark one yet. And it’d probably get the questions going.”

Choerry smiled. The fae curiosity, as infuriating as it could be, usually seemed to get them happy once it was fed. She’d definitely introduce her to Hypnos. Maybe she’d end up figuring something out that the rest of them couldn’t, or she’d pick up on something they’d been ignoring. Or she’d help with protecting dark spirits like Hypnos. 

Viian was starting to open up, but all that progress seemed to have gone out of the window when she heard about Hyejoo. 

A part of her was relieved that Viian had been so outraged. It showed where her principles lay. And it showed that she didn’t believe in what the Astra did. 

“Sometimes I wish they talked.” Hyunjin rubbed a spot behind the cat’s ears. It actually began to purr. “It’d answer so many questions.”

“Until the others start taunting you,” Yeojin said. “Or they get to smart that they set a trap.”

“Key word was sometimes,” Hyunjin chuckled, “but I see your point.”

“How’re you feeling?” Choerry asked. Jinsoul would’ve asked that the moment Hyunjin woke up. 

She shrugged. “Not that exhausted. I think we can start going. After we eat.” 

And so they ate. Of the three, Yeojin cooked the best. She’d also brought a lot of food. 

“Were you planning on eating twice your weight?” Hyunjin asked as she handed over what she’d brought. 

Yeojin didn’t reply immediately. Her mouth was set in a line. 

“Did you know you’d get lost?” Choerry poked her side. 

She twisted away. She glared at her. “I knew I’d have company.”

Surprisingly, her eyes held Choerry’s gaze. Then they went back to the food on the fire. 

When Choerry looked to Hyunjin, the girl was grinning, her sharper teeth shining in the firelight. 

She looked away, trying not to dwell on how her face warmed, despite having been warmed by the fire. 

They had a meal that changed from silence, to light conversation about everything _but_ current events, and more silence. 

Unsurprisingly, Yeojin had cooked a delicious meal out of what they’d brought. 

“What do you think,” Hyunjin leaned back, “a day’s walk?”

“Less if we hurry,” Choerry said. 

She grinned. She looked a lot healthier. The light still hadn’t come back, but at least she wasn’t as drained as before. 

“So let’s hurry.” Yeojin got to her feet. 

Choerry let the ground smother what was left of the fire. She could pack the dirt so tightly that iw as almost like soft stone. It could certainly hurt if tossed at someone. 

Hours of walking followed. They attracted a few dark spirits. They took each of them down. 

Then the day came. Hyunjin and Yeojin became tired the moment they saw the sky lighten. Choerry felt the urge to sleep as well, but not as strongly. 

“Didn’t you get used to the day with Hyojung?” she asked. 

Hyunjin huffed. “Being out at this time was rare.”

“It’s late morning.” 

“Sunrise is way too late,” she grumbled. “Everything that follows is even worse.”

They kept walking. It was late afternoon when the silence broke. Bright spirits had already started to emerge. Most of them were good. They steered clear of those that were questionable. You couldn’t fight bright spirits, but they could easily kill you. 

“What did you actually do after you left?” Yeojin asked. “Out there?”

Choerry tried not to look too interested. She only knew the smaller details that Hyunjin had told them. She still wasn’t sure if those years away had been good ones. All Choerry knew was that Hyunjin had come back enjoying life a bit less than she once had. Instead of sneaking out with Yeojin, Hyejoo, and Choerry, she’d been the one to either silently follow and step in if a spirit came along, or she’d tell them to come back. 

In the house, she’d seen how the carnage had pained Hyunjin. But she’d stayed in the house when Yeojin and Choerry hadn’t been able to. She’d taken the darkness for herself, nearly been overcome in the process, and was now leading their group. 

Something about that time had hardened Hyunjin. Choerry still didn’t know what that was. She wanted to ask her, but she knew the mention of it could bring back unwanted memories. It was the same with Jungeun. Choerry knew what she did, because Jungeun had been ready to tell her. Hyunjin probably wasn’t. 

“Did things like that,” Hyunjin nodded behind them, “going to places where mortals were most afraid, or just tracking down the creatures aiming to hurt them.”

“And spirits.”

“And spirits,” she nodded, “but we dealt more with vampires and wolves.” 

“Did you kill the wolves?” Choerry felt some discomfort. Werewolves became more or less mindless in during the first years of their transformations. They just attacked, no matter if the person themselves was aggressive or the most peaceful of all. Choerry pitied them. 

Hyunjin shook her head. “Not usually. We got them tied down. The light made things better.” A shrug. “Apparently that craze they have is from a huge amount of anger. We gave them chains of light against it.”

“Their anger?” Choerry asked. “Or drawn in?” Some called it lunacy. Most rejected that the moon could cause something as terrible as a werewolf rampage, so they’d concluded that werewolves were dark creatures who couldn’t tolerate the full power of the moon. But what if it was actually the moon that caused it?

A small smile appeared. “I never asked, but you can if we ever see the stiffs again.”

Emotional fae would know. Of course. The few Choerry had met had either been terrible at hiding their facial expressions, or too good at it. And they always talked about emotions in the weirdest of ways. Anger was hot, while fear was freezing. They also all had colours attached to them. 

Those fae also never looked you in the eye. They were _always_ looking into your emotions. Just like mental fae always looked into your mind. Just like seers always looked into your future. 

“Was it worth going?” Choerry asked. 

Hyunjin nodded. “I learned a lot.”

She knew that. It wasn’t what she’d wanted to hear. “But were you happy out there?” 

No response. 

Yeojin met Choerry’s eyes. “Didn’t you want the adventure?” Her deep voice was softer now. No anger there. It suited Yeojin more than the constant scowl and venom did. 

Hyunjin shook her head. “I wanted an escape.”

From what, neither of them asked. They didn’t need to know either. 

“They actually knew who Alluin was,” Hyunjin said then. “They were younger at the time. Your ages, maybe less.” The corners of her lip tugged up. “But they ignored the connection with my family. Actually told me what they knew.”

“Was he the type to get people slaughtered?” Yeojin asked. The bite was back in her voice. 

“He was angry,” Hyunjin said. “Went to witches and fairies a lot, learning the other magic because he didn’t have the light.”

“What did he do?” Choerry couldn’t help but wonder why Hyunjin’s parents hadn’t told her, but Hyojung’s group had. She barely knew them, having only seen glimpses when they’d returned with news or other gifts. 

“Patrol and combat,” she replied. “There was a lot if it then.”

“And when the other magic came?” Yeojin’s jaw had clenched. 

“They didn’t know exactly. There'd been a fight with other elves. They hadn't been there.” Hyunjin looked at the sky, squinting in the sunlight. “But it’d come then. He’d used it. And then he’d never come back.” She let out a long sigh. “I think my parents had been there. They’d never talked about it. I just know that he came the best kept secret of all Astra.”

Choerry thought of a blackened corpse. She thought of his heart, torn in two. Alluin hadn’t done it, but he’d given the blade. He took in people capable of killing with relish. People willing to cut the short lives of mortals even shorter. 

But he also took in people like Hyejoo. 

_I didn’t need to stay_. 

He hadn’t given her a home. 

_And he’d sent her to kill someone too,_ Choerry thought. 

“Not anymore,” Yeojin said. “We’ll tell them who he was.”

“No,” Hyunjin said. 

Orange eyes widened. “But look what happened to you—”

“Exactly. Look what happened.” Hyunjin scowled. “They did all that for something most of us didn’t even know happened.” Her pace quickened. “We were against Hyejoo going and they did nothing like they had then. What if they do here?”

“Let them!” Yeojin threw up her hands. The light in her darkened further. “They have to know it wasn’t Hyejoo. He’s out there. They can find him and—”

“And kill him?” Choerry asked. “Or put him in bars like they did her?” What if they already had? 

“I,” Yeojin started. Nothing else came out. 

“Think about what’s coming,” Hyunjin said. “Years of life. A lot of them. You do something and you’ll never have a say in any of them. Not in how things work, not in how we think either.”

“But Haseul—”

“Is selfless, leads well, and will stand her ground. They respect her.”

“You do that too,” Choerry said.

Hyunjin blinked. The shock softened the darkness that’d been starting to grow in her. “I wasn’t chosen to be an elder. And they don’t say it, but they need her.” Her eyes fell. She deflated, her shoulders sinking. 

Choerry knew what she was thinking. 

_They don’t need me_.

She went back over Hyunjin’s outburst. She’d never spoken this much. She’d never sharpened her voice either. The dejection had always been there, so had the frustration, but the anger wasn’t like her. Not completely. 

Hyunjin had lost more light. It was just grey now. 

“People need you.” Choerry took her hand. It was freezing. “Yeojin and I’d be lost without you.” Maybe not in this moment, but they’d needed her at the house. They’d needed her when they went off alone. They’d needed her training. “The others need you too.” 

“No they don’t,” she muttered. 

Choerry immediately thought of a girl Hyunjin had left behind. The light in Heejin’s eyes had faded when Hyunjin had gone. The occasional singing at meals and periodic wanderings she’d done between fire pits had also stopped. Choerry didn’t know what Heejin had been doing in that time, only that it’d taken up every free second she’d had. 

She was about to tell Hyunjin that when Yeojin’s light darkened to a shade below silver. Hyunjin’s vanished completely. 

A sick feeling came over her. It was warm, but the type that came out when it was too humid. 

“Run,” she told them. “Run!” She pushed them off the path they were taking. 

Both ran without question. 

The sun had set. 

The twisted path reformed. Hyunjin hadn’t reclaimed her light. She was dying. 

The exact wrong feeling came over her: panic. 

Corrupted bright spirits loved that. Just like malevolent dark spirits, they were drawn to people who felt anger, fear or any sort of devastation. The emotion had to be strong enough for a spirit to risk showing itself and giving chase. 

Choerry found a second of clarity through her panic. She could use this. Hyunjin was always calm in this situation. Despite the darkness in her heart, she was now. Yeojin was just confused. They wouldn’t attract the spirit, at least not immediately. 

“Don’t follow me,” Choerry said. 

Then she ran from the path. She let her fear come. She thought of how afraid she was for Hyunjin’s life. She thought of how terrified she was that Yeojin would get hurt here. 

Neither of them followed. 

So Choerry let other feelings come. She thought of Hyejoo and how she’d felt when the girl had said she wasn’t coming back. She thought of telling Jinsoul the truth and the dread and guilt that came with that.

She saw her own path dim. Hyunjin's light returned. Yeojin’s brightened. 

Choerry ran faster. She drew on the hatred that’d been brewing for the Astra ever since Hyejoo had been banished. She called on the hatred she felt for the moon for giving her not only light, but also her sight. She let all of it flow. If she could save Yeojin and Hyunjin, those emotions had to be felt to their fullest. 

She heard hissing behind her. 

More fear came and she let it come. She was afraid of her path disappearing. She was afraid of dying. 

Her path was the colour of coal. 

Choerry kept running. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, where the previous chapter was a lot of talking, this one had more action. I hope the way I describe the light, darkness, and paths isn't too confusing. The way I see their sight working is like when you're focusing on one specific thing, like a book, laptop, or pen in front of your face. Everything else is still there, but it's either blurred or you don't even pay attention to it. When the elves look at someone's light, that light 'fades into view', if that makes sense. 
> 
> Either way, there's a lot of thoughts to be had for these characters. I wanted to finally write from Yeojin's perspective a bit, the sort-of-friendship-sort-of not thing she has with Yerim, and then show more of the fallout from Hyejoo's decision not to kill that man. There's other things I keep revealing, I know, but my goal is to show you twelve characters, each with depth to them and room to grow further. 


	17. Drowning

Jiwoo gasped. Her eyes were fixed on the distance. She was seeing something neither of them could. 

“What is it?” Sooyoung had stopped immediately. Her hands rose just in front of her, but they fell before they could reach Jiwoo. 

“We have to get back.” Jiwoo scanned the space in front of her. Tears had begun to fill her eyes. 

“Why?” 

Jiwoo shook her head. Then she turned. 

“Jiwoo,” Sooyoung caught her hand, “we’ll go, but you need to tell us why.” 

“Just,” Jiwoo pulled her hand away, “we need to go.”

Gowon tried to help before Sooyoung looked completely dejected. “Tell us something," she said.

How many times had Jiwoo made decisions without them questioning it? When she’d turned a certain direction, they’d both followed her. When she’d told them they had to get going in the middle of the day, they followed. Neither of them had ever asked why. 

“There’s too much,” Jiwoo looked back at where she’d looked, “there’s darkness and I don’t know where it’s coming from. Only that its around Yerim.” She started to run back. “Trust me,” she threw over her shoulder. 

Gowon swore she heard Sooyoung mutter, “I always do.”

Jiwoo gave no sign that she’d heard it. 

______

Olivia dreamed of green eyes filling with darkness. She dreamed of screams for mercy and a deep cold erupting within her. In her dream, she enjoyed every second of it. 

When she awoke, the air was filled with panic. Someone else’s. Then she felt the disgust that always came with bright spirits, but this one even more. It was one that attacked even Astra. And she felt three of them. They were chasing something. She could feel their hunger. 

Olivia scrambled out of the tent. It was early evening. 

She landed on the ground, stumbling as she landed, before setting off at a run. 

Even though her magic lay with the darkness, she was still able to see the light of others. Even before she’d actually gotten her magic, she’d been able to. Maybe that was her only connection to the moon. 

She found the three spirits. One was close to its target. The other two were closer to Olivia. Further away from the person they chased. 

And Olivia had seen that it was a person. Purple threaded through their light. But there was a lot of darkness radiating out from them. She could see that from here. 

Olivia ran harder. She wouldn’t be able to catch the spirits. 

What was Yerim doing here? And why was she feeling all of that fear, anger, and pain? Where was it all coming from? 

The night energised her. There were more shadows than there was light. It was perfect. For her. Not Yerim. 

She didn’t know how long she ran, nor how far away the spirits or Yerim were. Only that they’d been close enough for her to sense them. And close enough for her to intervene. 

She saw the spirit of a horse first. It was a vibrant orange. It might’ve been beautiful, had the air around it not been corrupted. And Olivia had lost sight of the appeal of bright spirits when all had turned on her. 

The shadows of a crop of trees shot up in a tall black wall. The horse whinnied as it veered away. It started to run away, but she’d slowed it. That’d be enough. 

Olivia threw a blade of darkness. It hit its flank. A short and high sound left it, but it ran even faster. 

She leapt through the air, her hands covered in shadow. She sank another dagger into its hind leg. She clung on for dear life as it kept running, stumbling as it did. 

Her feet caught on the ground and what parts of her did come into contact with the horse burned. Their light always made her feel sick. 

She summoned another piece of darkness and drove it into the horse’s spine. 

Now she felled it. It toppled over, taking her with it. Her back hit the ground, hard. The rest of the horse nearly crushed her, but it rolled away just as quickly. 

Catching her breath, she heaved herself to her feet. 

The horse writhed around, its entire lower half the colour of the setting sun. 

Olivia drew on shadows as she would a breath. A large wave of them pulled away from the ground and the trees. A large stake of darkness impaled the horse to the ground. The strangled screech that left it made Olivia turn away. 

It would turn soon. She told herself that it would stop attacking others. She told herself that what she’d done was right for it. 

Then she ran to take the next one. Another bright spirit had already reached Yerim. 

She nearly stopped running. She was too late. 

_No_ , Olivia thought. Yerim could handle herself. And she’d had years to learn even more. She’d learned how to fight. She’d learned how to run away when she could. 

Olivia kept running. She’d take down the other spirit so it wouldn’t join. 

She could only hope Yerim could flee in time. 

______

The curtains parted and in came a dishevelled Chuu. 

“Where are they?” she gasped. Her eyes were wide. Her light was sickly white with terror. 

“Where’re who?” Haseul asked. 

“Yerim, Y-Yeojin, and Hyunjin.” She looked between her and Heejin. “I-I can’t find them and-and,” she stammered. Then she squeezed her eyes shut before opening them again. “Please come with me.”

“Why,” Heejin began, words already poised for a fight. 

“We’ll go.” Haseul briefly looked to where Yves stood. She was also out of breath, her brow furrowed. She looked like she didn’t know why they’d run back from wherever they’d come. 

Chuu’s entire body loosened as she turned. 

“You want us with you?” Lisa asked. 

Haseul shook her head. Chuu had never come to her for anything. She’d never looked desperate or terrified in front of her either.

“If you can reach Hyojung, tell her to look out for them.” That group could handle almost any situation, from vampires to rabid spirits. And if they could reach them in time, and if that group was close enough, they could handle whatever had scared Chuu so much. 

They walked briskly through camp. Some stopped what they were doing to look. Their groups had never been seen together without some sort of argument breaking out—or absolute silence shared between them. Of course them simply walking together would garner attention. 

Chuu took them straight to the forest. None of them spoke. 

Haseul caught her looking to the side and then at the ground. Her eyes were almost mad with worry. 

Then Chuu stopped suddenly. “Where could Yeojin have gone?” 

“Why just her?” Heejin crossed her arms. 

“Answer me,” Chuu snapped. “Yerim’ll have followed her and Hyunjin’ll have known that. Where did they go?”

Haseul hadn’t noticed that Yeojin had left. She’d gone off alone. Again. With the anger she always let herself feel, she was a target. 

“Hyejoo,” Heejin said. “She’d want to see her herself.” She seemed

“She wouldn’t know where to go,” Haseul said. 

“Yerim does,” Chuu finished. “Would she have gone to that town—that house?” 

“So they both went with her,” Heejin frowned, “what’s wrong with that?” 

“I,” she broke off. Both panic and anguish shone in her eyes. 

“We don’t know where they are,” Yves said. “At one point, we knew they were fine. The next, I couldn’t even feel their light.”

“They’re not safe out there,” Chuu said. “Please, I know they aren’t, but I can’t protect them. They’ll need you.” 

She didn’t say it, but Yeojin wouldn’t let Chuu or Yves do anything anyway. Gowon didn’t even come in to that discussion. Chuu knew that. It was also why she’d come to them. 

“Okay, we’ll get going.” 

“What?” Heejin rounded on her. _You’re trusting her?_ was the silent question. 

Haseul nodded. “I know where to go.” She also knew that Chuu would see exactly where that was.

Thinking back on it, Haseul wondered why she hadn’t seen it before. Chuu’d always hid it well, but if you looked closely, she’d usually been one step ahead of the rest. And she’d used to tip her off whenever Yeojin or someone else had snuck out. 

And now, whatever she was seeing terrified her. That scared Haseul too. She wouldn’t risk anyone’s life for a personal vendetta. She was past that. At least she hoped she was. 

______

Choerry glanced back. The spirit was a snake. Its body was thicker than her leg. Its scales were bright green and blue. Golden eyes were fixed on her. Hunger filled those eyes. 

She ran harder, making sure her path was in the opposite direction of the other two. No root tripped her. No branch cut her. She’d had plenty of practice to perfect that technique. She didn’t try to ward it off. She needed to get far enough. Hyunjin’s path was still too dark. Yeojin’s was almost silver. Flickers of orange were in it. 

Night was coming quickly. Already, Choerry felt the glow of the waxing moon sink into her skin. She held it all within her, letting nothing slip out. 

There were other spirits following: malevolent dark ones. They’d have been going after Hyunjin otherwise. The darkness in her was a beacon. Choerry just had to outshine that. 

She blinked away tears. Her thoughts turned to those dead men. Men she’d let die. She felt the shame of that. She thought of wanting that one mortal to die. 

More tears. 

Her path vanished. 

Something stabbed into her ankle. 

Choerry toppled over, her face slamming into the ground. White hot pain lanced from it. Her nose was broken—crushed actually. 

The snake tightened its grip. Fire erupted from her ankle. Choerry screamed. 

The ground opened up. She kicked at the snake, but its grip was a vice. 

The corrupted light seeped further into her. 

She forced a piece of the earth to slam into its head. Its grip loosened. She made the ground swallow the spirit and forced it to harden. 

Barely was it gone that Choerry saw a stretch of deep grey. 

She let go of her light. It erupted from her skin, illuminating the forest as though it were day. 

Four spirits surrounded her. Two fled from the light. They went int the direction she’d been going. Away from Hyunjin. Away from Yeojin. 

The other two launched themselves at her. 

Choerry swung her arm at the first, grabbing the stag by the throat and forcing it down into the ground. 

It screeched as light flowed into it. 

A grey cougar sank its teeth into her shoulder. As she cried out, it hissed and let go. 

She made branches wrap around its body and pinned it to a tree. 

Choerry was still holding a partially turned spirit. She drove a length of moonlight into its heart, impaling it into the ground. 

The earth was churning. Choerry hadn’t noticed. Her path still hadn’t reappeared. 

Out of the earth emerged the snake. Too fast for her to bury it again. She dove out of the way. She landed on her bitten ankle and fell immediately. 

Choerry had the ground rise between her and the snake. It slammed into it with a series of crunches. 

She added more, making a wall around her. Any strength she’d had from running had vanished. The reality of the fight was settling in. Tears kept welling up from the pain. Her nose had started to repair itself, but it still stung. Her leg was the main problem. She couldn’t stand on it. The spirit had poisoned her. That poison was still spreading. 

The snake still tried to reach her as well. Choerry could sense that the stag had turned. It’d fled. She didn’t blame it. 

The cougar had been weakened by the light, but it hadn’t turned. Other spirits were nearing. No bright ones, thankfully. But Choerry didn’t know how she’d fight them, let alone how she’d escape the snake. 

And the light that was her future was gone. She was going to die. 

The desperation she felt now wasn’t forced. The ground was shaking beneath her. Either it was her magic, or something else. 

_The ground_. 

Choerry realised then how stupid her fear had made her. She even laughed. 

She took a deep breath and let the ground take her. 

Normally, this was where bodies went. Now, Choerry burrowed herself deep into it. She forced the ground to part and compress, making it free in front of her. She let it go back when she passed. 

Here, she could barely breathe. Her chest was already tightening. The memory of drowning came to mind. She pushed it down. 

The snake was following. Its twisted, pale path was still above her. The dark spirit hadn’t broken from the branches. Choerry’s light was spreading there. 

The other dark spirits were somewhere as well. Their numbers were smaller than earlier. Had she miscounted?

Choerry kept going, even as her body begged her to breathe. All she heard was the pounding of her heart and the sound of wet and dry earth churning around her. The small rocks held there slid against her, creating countless small cuts in her skin and clothes. Choerry’d never actually tunnelled through the ground. She had no skill here. 

Then her body gasped for a breath. She started drowning. 

Once, her people had been attacked by elemental fae. A small group, but they’d been effective. Choerry had been targeted by a water fae. She’d nearly killed her. Choerry had barely gotten her own magic under control. 

As she’d scrambled to try and swim away, the earth had crumbled, while roots of the nearby trees had launched themselves at the fairy. In her panic, Choerry had both impaled and strangled the fairy. She hadn’t known what she’d done until the whirlpool had collapsed. 

She’d sputtered and heaved beside his trembling body, her lungs ravaged by water. 

Now, Choerry forced the ground to spit her out. She coughed, her breath a wheeze. Her leg still screamed with pain, but she was somehow cut off from it. She felt the snake come, its light had a strange glee held within it. It had her. 

_Light_. 

It was made of it. They’d all only ever been terrified of the corrupted bright ones. What she wanted to do was dangerous, she knew that much. It wasn't much worse than dying where she stood, was it? 

Reaching for it as she would to a tree, dirt, or her own light, Choerry took hold of it. 

The burn reached her mind. Choerry clenched her jaw to keep from screaming. 

She pushed back on it. It hissed, recoiling. 

Then Choerry’s grip slipped. The pain vanished. 

The snake shot forward. 

She grabbed it again. The fire came alive in her head. A strangled scream left her as she wrenched the snake to the side. 

The spirit flew across the ground. It smacked into a tree, breaking it in half with a deafening crack. 

Choerry let go and wrapped the tree around the snake. The wood answered her call easily. 

The spirit broke free just as easily. 

Choerry tried to reach for it again. The pain split her mind. She shrieked. 

Never had the light felt so wrong to her. It blinded her, making her scramble back, squeezing her eyes shut. She should’ve pushed through the pain. Now she’d pay for her weakness. 

But the impact never came. 

Instead, there was more hissing. There was also a high-pitched screeching. 

Choerry opened her eyes. She almost couldn’t see past the too bright light of the snake. 

But she knew what was in front of her. 

Hypnos was on top of the snake’s head. She could make out his feet digging into the snake’s eyes. His mouth was on its torso. 

The snake’s body whipped around. Then it slung around the bat. It began to wrap around him. Hypnos’ skin began to lighten. 

Choerry cried out. The ground shot up. It pierced through the snake’s body. It twitched, but kept wrapping itself around Hypnos. It was going to crush him. 

“Get away!” someone screamed. 

In the next moment, Choerry was being hauled up by her arms. Their skin burned her. She wrenched herself away. 

“Save him.”

“Who?” It was a voice she didn’t know. 

“The bat.” She pulled herself up, ignoring how her leg protested the movement. “We need—” 

Hypnos let out a shriek, just as the snake’s entire body slackened. 

“He killed it?” She didn’t recognise this voice either. 

The bat fell away. The snake had a dark blue head, which was partially torn off. Its eyes were still gold, but they’d been ripped into as well. Light leaked from its eyes and neck. 

Hypnos lay still on his front. Half of him was lavender. 

Choerry crawled over to him. The dark purple churned across his skin. It made for a soup of the two shades of purple. 

He was alive. He hadn’t been turned. 

Then what was he now?

“Others are coming.” It was the person who’d first screamed at her. She was a girl with bright blue hair. Her glow was blinding. 

Choerry looked away and put a hand to Hypnos’ head. He didn’t flinch. 

“I’ll carry you,” Blue-hair said. “You’ll carry him.” She’d stopped glowing. She was beautiful. 

“Carry him?” Her voice sounded faint to her. 

A small way’s away, she saw three other girls fighting two dark spirits. One was on its way to turning. Another pair had already been turned. They fought with the girls. These were other Astra. 

“You’re the one who can control nature, right?” 

Choerry laughed. “I just control dirt and wood.” Or was there more? She couldn’t quite remember. 

Still, she made the ground beneath Hypnos hard and got it to rise. The platform shook. 

“Where’re the others?” she croaked out. “I was with two others.”

“Some of our group went to them,” a second gorgeous elf said. Her voice was so gentle. Her eyes were a deep pink. Choerry knew who she was, but couldn’t place the name. She’d never forget someone who looked like that. 

Come to think of it, she also knew Blue-hair. 

The dirt holding Hypnos fell. The pink-eyed elf caught him. She looked at Hypnos with hesitant eyes, but she didn’t drop him or the dirt. 

Arms went around Choerry and lifted her up. Even with enhanced strength, Choerry knew this person was stronger than most elves. 

She reached out a hand towards Hypnos. 

Pink-eyes came over with him so she could put a hand to his fur. 

“Don’t tell them about him.” Choerry was exhausted, but the pain wasn’t letting her sleep. 

She wanted to look for the paths of the others. But she couldn’t bear to have any light in her vision. It hurt too much. 

“We won’t,” one said. She had a yellow badger at her side. 

“But we have to tell them that they can,” another frowned, “be killed?”

“And controlled,” Choerry muttered. 

The one holding her tightened her grip. “We saw that. None of us do it because it’s too painful. We don’t even know if it does damage to us.”

“I feel terrible now,” she said. “Is that enough?”

“Yeah.” A pause. “We know how to help with that.”

 _Good_ , she thought. 

“Why weren’t your friends with you?”

“They were dying,” Choerry murmured, sinking further into the arms around her. “They weren’t after I ran.”

Silence fell as they walked. Choerry’s leg hadn’t stopped burning. At some point, she’d made dirt wrap around it. It helped if the moon didn’t shine on it. 

There rest of her needed the light. Her shoulder was frozen. Her hand was numb. Her nose was slowly healing. Painfully. 

Her head was far from mending. She’d closed her eyes again. Just looking at the night sky hurt. 

“You distracted them,” Blue-hair said then. “Most of us came to you because so much of you was grey.”

Choerry smiled. “It worked.”

“You made yourself bait,” the second gorgeous girl said. “Did you really expect to fight them on your own?” 

Meaning, had she expected to survive?

“No.”

They were silent the rest of the way. 

______

Yeojin slammed her staff into the spirit. It whimpered as light flooded it. 

_Only one._ There were so many. This must’ve been the third pair? 

She leapt at the next one. It was going straight for Hyunjin. 

She summoned another length of moonlight. She felt a small chill. The first sign that she was using too much light. 

Hyunjin was being pinned to the ground by a spirit, its jaws snapping at her face and neck, but never quite reaching. The elf’s hands were glowing faintly. 

Yeojin kicked it off of her. The spirit had already gotten too its feet when Yeojin rose. Then it made for her own throat. 

She rammed her staff into it. It tackled her to the ground. The wind was knocked from her, but she’d gotten a good enough blow. She easily pushed it off her, ignoring the cold that shot into her fingers. 

Hyunjin was dancing around another spirit. She didn’t have enough light for a weapon. 

Yeojin summoned a sword. The cold came again. She was only able to make half of a blade. She hoped it’d be enough. 

“Here!” She tossed it. 

Hyunjin caught it. The half-formed sword disappeared into the spirit’s mouth when it next attacked. There was a shrill scream. Was that sound supposed to come out of a lion? 

She kicked it away with a grunt. “Thanks.” 

Yeojin took in the spirits around them. Some had fully turned, others were in the process. They hadn’t been filled with a freakish amount of darkness. 

Hyunjin cursed. “There’s more.”

Yeojin knew well enough why. They were both panicked, Hyunjin was almost more dark than light, while Yeojin had drained herself of her own light. 

“We’re running,” Hyunjin said. 

She didn’t argue. She was exhausted from the running and the fighting. She also had a nice set of gashes down her back. 

Yeojin still ran. 

Where was Choerry? Briefly, Yeojin wondered if she’d run away. But as much as she found the elf intolerable, she knew that Choerry would never do that. Yeojin had seen her fight before. She could handle these types of fight with ease. 

Still, there were so many spirits. What could the rest do if they caught someone on their own?

“Over here!” someone yelled. 

Yeojin deflated when she realised it wasn’t Choerry. 

But they were Astra. 

Hyunjin turned in their direction immediately. Her step had hardly faltered. Was she that fit or still pushing herself? 

Yeojin followed. 

There were spirits ahead, but one was already in the process of turning. When they reached the Astra, Yeojin watched someone stab another spirit in the heart. It was dark brown. 

“Hyunjin?” The speaker sounded as if she couldn’t believe her eyes. 

“Where’s Yerim?” Hyunjin asked. 

“We split up,” the girl replied. She had large doe eyes. They were a deep blue. “Mimi took the lead to get the other one.” Her brow furrowed. “That’s Yerim?” 

“What’s happened to her?” Hyunjin was moving again. “Where’d she go?”

They were going after where else they saw the light. Yeojin saw no sign of it with her normal vision. Just how fast had Choerry run? 

“A bright one.” A pause. “There were dark ones too, maybe they started—” 

Hyunjin had broken into a sprint. Where she got the strength, Yeojin didn’t know. 

Still, she pushed herself to keep up. Her back ached and her growing stitch was starting to feel like a stab wound. 

A bright spirit. Had Choerry known about it? Or had she thought she’d be getting more dark spirits off their tail?

In the moments after she’d started running, Yeojin had felt the echoes of darkness start appearing around Choerry. There’d been so much, all at once too. She’d never thought any of that would've ever come from her. 

A howl sounded then.

“I’ve got it,” someone else shouted. 

Another of the group broke away. Yeojin recognised one, Binnie. What was Hyojung’s group doing here?

As they neared the other cluster of light, Yeojin needed to sift through it to find the light threaded with purple. 

Already, Yeojin felt sick. She herself had been drained fighting with _Hyunjin_ at her side. Choerry had been alone. 

_This isn’t that bad_ , she told herself. _Hyunjin’s worse off and she’s running_. 

No one said anything. The trek felt like hours, but it was only minutes. 

Twice, Yeojin stumbled. Hyojung righted her both times. 

She kept going. Her body was in agony, but they still needed to run. Exhaustion wouldn’t matter if Choerry was hurt. Or worse. 

Then they reached them. 

Choerry lay limp in someone’s arms. 

Yeojin felt as if she’d been punched. Choerry looked _dead_. 

The figure before her was covered in dirt and blood. Her clothes clung to her by simple threads. Normally, that would’ve made Yeojin blush. Now, it gave her a view of a still bleeding shoulder, as well as countless other cuts and gashes. 

Mud clung to her entire leg, but it was steadily dripping off. A sickly pale glow came from it. 

The bright spirit had gotten her. 

Most people ran from them. When it’d all started, they’d lost too many elves who’d tried their hand at fighting them. That kind of light worked like a poison. The only solution was to spend time in complete darkness. Not even a fire could be around you for too long. 

A cry left Hyunjin as she rushed over. Whatever glow she’d had before vanished. Then she gathered Choerry in her arms. 

“What happened?” Yeojin asked. The words came out as a gasp. Her lungs hurt. 

The one who’d been holding her grimaced. She had blue hair. “She’d taken two down, but four more had been coming. The spirit had her cornered.”

“But that came along,” the other one said. She had pink eyes. Arin. 

That was when Yeojin saw Hypnos. She hadn’t even noticed he’d been with her. 

His two-coloured eyes were open. He was two different shades of purple, light and dark. Just like that cat spirit. 

“They can die,” the blue-haired one told them. Was this Mimi? “The bat killed it. We saw it.”

Hypnos looked up at Yeojin. She saw recognition there. He leaned into her hand when she patted his head. 

“He saved her,” Yeojin murmured. 

Arin nodded. “Big risk for its kind,” she said. “And her.”

“We need to get her to the water,” Hyunjin said. “These’ll get infected.”

“We’re close to camp, Hyun” Arin put a hen to her arm, “she needs a healer. And fast.”

The mud fell away completely and they were bathed in the glow of Choerry’s leg. It was bone-white. 

Choerry whimpered. 

Yeojin got out a thin blanket from her pack. She wrapped it around Choerry’s leg. Her thumb brushed the skin. She flinched at how hot it was to the touch. 

Hyunjin’s pace had quickened. Except for Choerry’s leg, both were filled with too much darkness. Even Yeojin, who’d expend almost all she had, outshone them. She didn’t know how Hyunjin was still awake. She wasn’t sure if it was even healthy for her to still be moving and exerting herself. 

At the very least, the moon was out. 

“Please tell me you have something with you,” Hyunjin said. 

Yeojin didn’t know what that meant, but she didn’t ask. 

Arin responded pretty quickly.” We’ll get it to her once we’re there.”

“We need to get her here,” Hyunjin said, her voice strained. _Her_ didn’t mean Choerry. Who was it? 

“I’ll send for her as soon as we get there,” Hyojung said. Her smile was almost too wide, but it was gentle. 

Hyunjin’s pace neared a jog. 

“You won’t help her if you collapse.” Arin’s hand went to her shoulder. “I can take her.”

Unsurprisingly, Hyunjin shook her head. 

They kept going. 

“Was she awake when you found her?” Only now was Hyunjin starting to sound out of breath. 

“Yeah,” Mimi said. “But out of it. She didn’t even know who we were.”

Yeojin frowned. “Why not?” Choerry looked up to this group too. She couldn’t have just forgotten what they looked like. They were all immortal. They didn’t change much. 

“She tried to control the spirit.”

“That could’ve killed her.” The corrupted light came to you _without_ the spirit even being close to you if you did that. Some had been driven completely mad by it. Or their minds had died completely. Not even the mental fae knew how to cure that. 

“No, but this saved her life,” Mimi shrugged, “so I guess it was the next best option.”

“Will she be okay?” Yeojin felt a second wave of fear. It just made her feel colder. 

A nod. 

“You’re sure?” With Choerry’s leg, she already had too much of that light in her. 

As if reading her mind, another elf, Seunghee, said, “she got a lot, but it didn’t break her.”

Both Yeojin and Hyunjin flinched. She hated the sound of that. 

“She’ll be okay.”

“How do you know?” 

The elf didn’t look annoyed by Yeojin’s questions. “Personal experience from when it all started. I saw some die and some survive.” A hard edge came over her pale green eyes. 

Yeojin nodded. Sometimes, she could only marvel at how much experience the people around her had. Even Choerry had led an impressive life so far. Yeojin had only ever heard snippets of it, but what she had heard about—Choerry’s trips between witches and fae, as well as her own experience in learning how to use her nature magic—Yeojin had always found herself listening then. 

“Drink something first,” Arin was saying. 

Hyunjin didn’t respond. 

The pink-eyed elf raised the waterskin to Hyunjin’s lips instead. The look in her eyes made Yeojin pause. When she angled her head slightly, she was puzzled even more by Hyunjin’s expression. 

When had this happened? 

Logically, Yeojin could figure that out. But when she thought about how Hyunjin had fought the urge to stare at Heejin whenever she walked by _just_ last week, the sight in front of her now barely had an explanation. 

There were hurried steps then. From camp. 

Haseul appeared first. Her green eyes scanned them, meeting Yeojin’s eyes first, before sticking to Choerry. It was difficult to watch how her expression crumpled. Heejin was there soon after, her eyes widened when she saw Choerry. When she took in Hyunjin, and probably how little light was there, any bravado she might’ve had vanished. 

“Are you coming in or do I get Jinsoul?” Haseul’s voice was perfectly steady. Just hearing it made Yeojin feel better. 

That was until she saw Chuu. Countless times, she’d been told to lay off the girl. She’d always ignored them. She did now as well. 

“What’s she doing here?” Yeojin asked. “Wasn’t she on a search party?” 

Chuu looked at her. She saw hurt and something else. 

“She knew something was wrong,” Haseul said sharply. “She came back to tell us.”

“And how—” 

She raised her hand. “Yerim first.”

Yeojin felt a rush of shame then. 

“We’re going in,” Hyunjin said. “Hunting parties are starting to forget it’s dangerous out there.”

Haseul’s eyes filled with more concern when she took her in. “And what about you?” 

“They need to remember what it looks like to clear a place like that.” She kept walking. “And once they see it, they’ll know it wasn’t Hyejoo.”

Haseul only nodded. 

Arin and Binnie had come back. Unharmed. They both nodded at Haseul and the others, but fixed a gaze on Hyojung. 

"The spirits were already turned when we got there," Arin said. "But I didn't see any other dark spirits?" 

"Hyejoo," Chuu whispered. 

Yeojin didn't even snap at the mention of her. She just felt worse. Had she dragged Hyejoo into this as well? She'd come back, escaped whatever life she'd been living before, only to be dragged to close to her old one. 

No one said anything more about who'd turned those spirits. It just meant that things could've gone much worse than they already had. 

Yeojin saw that Heejin had hung back. Her eyes flit between Choerry and Hyunjin. Then they lingered on Hyunjin, eyes growing pained. She’d taken one step forward, but hadn’t taken the next. 

Yeojin knew why her worry wasn’t just for the girl in Hyunjin’s arms. Choerry’s wounds would probably heal soon. The rest didn’t seem so concerned about it—they just needed to heal Choerry soon. 

No one had talked about Hyunjin yet—about how the darkness had continued to seep into her heart. Yeojin also didn’t say that most of the spirits had gone after Hyunjin, ignoring Yeojin until she just about tackled them. 

Briefly, she wondered if a part of Heejin could feel the extent of that damage. They’d been intertwined since they were little. They’d grown even closer in the years that’d followed. Even if they talked far less now, even if Heejin was bound to someone else, no one could say that they’d grown apart. Even if there were people who wished they were, and one of those people was Hyunjin herself. 

And even Yeojin could see that. She could only hope that the moon would too. 

But now, they needed to get Choerry back to camp. She’d gotten hurt just because they’d been on this journey as three. She’d gotten hurt because Hyunjin had absorbed more darkness than she could handle. And the two had only been there because Yeojin had wanted to see the house. 

They’d been in harm’s way because of her. Both had gotten _hurt_ because of her. If she hadn’t insisted on going, if she’d gone back with Hyunjin, or agreed to go home when Choerry had given her the choice—none of them would be this hurt. None of them would have been in this much danger. 

But Yeojin had made them all go. Both had known she couldn’t go alone. And both were now hurt, one by darkness, the other by light. 

And it was all Yeojin's fault. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you'll forgive the brief interlude of other characters finding out about Yerim's situation. They were a little bit before some of what'd happened in the last chapter, but the latter parts all happened parallel to the chase. 
> 
> If you're confused by something, enjoying it, or have any predictions or other remarks, I'd love to know your thoughts. Seeing the reactions to what's happened, as well as your insights on certain characters and their decisions, really encourage me to keep developing the entire Loona cast. They're a really interesting set of characters to follow for me. 
> 
> I hope you're all doing well! See you in the next chapter. 


	18. Not enough

Chuu checked how much water she had. A good amount. Enough light too. She put the cap back on. 

The curtains parted and in came Sooyoung. 

The sight of her made Chuu’s stomach twist. She averted her eyes. 

The way the bond worked, Chuu always felt at ease when Sooyoung was near. It had never forced her feelings, nor had it blinded her to the disagreements they'd sometimes had. It also hadn’t blinded either of them to their mistakes. 

A lot to the time, the bond had encouraged her that she what she felt for Sooyoung was right. 

A few times, Chuu had wondered if that was true—if Sooyoung would also feel that way if she learned about the bond. 

And always in those times, Chuu had needed to remind herself that the bond was only a suggestion. And that Sooyoung would hate to have it. 

Those reminders had helped to let her hate the times when she felt the most comfortable. They’d stopped most of her nerves when Sooyoung was near. They’d made her stomach stop fluttering when Sooyoung smiled or laughed. They’d let her distance herself from the bond. 

_But not enough_ , she thought. They still stayed in the same tent with Chaewon. Chuu had been able to put some literal distance between them a few times, taking each opportunity she had to go off with Jungeun when she contacted other elves or fairies. Each time she hoped that the people she met there, the ones who charmed her and were charmed by her, would somehow help the bond to fade. 

They never did. 

“Ready?”

Chuu looked up and immediately dropped her gaze. Sooyoung had her back to her, thankfully, but she was in the middle of changing. 

_Not enough_. 

Once again, Chuu hated how her face flamed. 

“Yeah,” she lied. They shouldn’t have been going, but the path out of the tent shone brightly. Sooyoung was very set on going. 

_It’s better when you’re there,_ Sooyoung had once said. _You know where we need to go. Then I know what we have to do_. 

“I’m not ready.” 

To say Chuu was surprised to hear that was an understatement. 

“But you want to go.” Chuu checked the knife strapped to her waist. While the light was almost always her main weapon, Jungeun had insisted she have alternatives— _something you can’t lose_. 

“And you don't want to.”

The tone of voice made her look up. 

Sooyoung had properly changed. And she was standing directly in front of her. 

Once, Chuu would’ve shrunk from beneath her gaze. Most did, but she’d learned not to. 

Instead, she got to her feet. She might not have felt shy anymore around her, but she still took one step back. 

Sooyoung pursed her lips. “Why didn’t you go with them?” 

Chuu was almost relieved. This was a question she could answer. Not completely, but a bit. As much as she lied to those she loved, she still liked to tell the truth. 

“I wasn’t the right person for that,” she said. “None of us are.” 

Sooyoung flinched, but she nodded. “Was it hard?” 

The question surprised her. “Which part?”

“Not looking for her.” The words were gentle, softened by understanding. 

Chuu shook her head. It really hadn’t. It might’ve hurt, but she’d known it was the right thing to turn away. It also hadn’t been her path. She hadn’t had the strength to change that. 

The taller elf looked surprised now. “How?”

Chuu frowned. “We’re going anyway. Why’re you asking me that now?”

“I wasn’t there,” Sooyoung said. “I didn’t see how you took the news. I didn’t hear what you told Jungeun before you came back.” Her eyes softened. No, something else had fallen away. “Because you didn’t tell me any of that. You still haven’t told me how you knew something was wrong.” 

_There’s a lot I don’t tell you,_ Chuu thought. Immediately, she felt ashamed. That was another reason why it was better if the bond disappeared. Chuu had become too good at lying. Sooyoung hated that more than she did seers. Luckily enough, Chuu did both. 

“She doesn’t want to be found,” she said. “Least of all by us. And I don’t think we’re ready to see her, we—we’re not ready to see her hate us.” Chuu didn’t think she’d ever be. 

A muscle in Sooyoung’s jaw tightened. “So you were protecting me.”

There it was. Now Sooyoung had forgotten to ask about yesterday. Now Chuu could say the next wrong thing. It’d be another shard to drive into a seemingly unbreakable bond. 

“I tried,” Chuu admitted. She tried to ignore how Sooyoung scowled at that. “But we have to go. I need to see how Jung is doing first.”

She didn’t expect Sooyoung to react to Jungeun’s name. She definitely didn’t expect to see hurt appearing in the other’s eyes. 

“Then we’ll see the witch.” Chuu continued. She could handle Sooyoung’s disappointment and her anger. She couldn’t bear to see her pain, let alone cause it. “And you can ask her to track Hyejoo.” The witch was also unsubtly fond of Sooyoung. That flirtation would help. 

It’d at least be a distraction. 

______

The cave was starting to look like she’d wanted it to. The days spent carving away at the walls and ceiling had made sure that she didn’t have to crawl in. In a few days, she’d be able to stand. 

Olivia wouldn’t be able to walk around in it. That was work for the next few weeks. 

The wolf had continued to lay around, watching either Olivia or the outside world. There was never a sound from it. Olivia didn’t actually mind it as much as she had at first. The only real problem was the colour of its eyes and how it chewed or licked anything coated in shadow. 

Once, it’d looked at her carving knives with something close to hunger. She’d tossed it the pieces of one when it’d snapped in the rick. The spirit had eaten each of them. 

And it continued to stare at her with infuriatingly endearing green eyes each time she summoned any darkness. 

“You weren’t starving before,” Olivia murmured now. “Why act like it?” She set down a chunk of shadow in front of it. 

It began to gnaw at it like it was a piece of flesh. Its eyes closed. Now the thing was content. 

She cursed it and kept working. 

As she smoothed down the walls for what seemed like the twentieth time, she went through what she still needed. 

Since fighting Taegen, her skin still hadn’t healed. If anything, it might’ve gotten worse. Once, she’d considered going to find a witch to help her. Twice, she’d inspected the wounds in broad daylight, her skin prickling as the sun bore down on them. Seeing the sharp, black lines in her skin and the horrific looking black scab, Olivia had decided against getting help. 

There was magic to conceal the black veins, something she’d used a fair amount of times. But for a witch to see the injury itself, while also having heard of the man murdered by darkness, it was hardly the best idea. 

No, she had to figure that out herself. 

Darkness could heal, a lot like light could, but Olivia had barely been able to get a stab wound to heal. All the help her own magic was able to give her was a numbing effect for the pain. 

It also ensured that she was mortally freezing for most of the day. 

That was what she needed next: firewood. It hadn’t rained for some time. She hoped she’d find decent wood for a fire. Fire sigils could overcome most limits of normal kindling. It’d probably work here. 

Had Jungeun been there, her magic would’ve burned through a wet log in seconds. 

Just the thought gave her a wave of homesickness. 

Olivia kept working, trying to work against that tide. The longing for home was a lot stronger now that she’d seen two people from it. 

Jungeun and Yerim had both seemed tired the day she'd seen them. It was a small wonder why. The pale spirits that attacked anyone could be warded off by the Astra, but not fought. Other dark spirits needed more light to turn. 

At least she assumed so, because they held increasingly higher amounts of darkness now. 

Even the wolf spirit held a lot of it. From what she could tell, there was anger, but a lot of fear, as well as melancholy. And yet, Olivia didn’t feel afraid or sad around it. She almost felt comfortable. 

But that might’ve been because of its eyes. As much as she hated how familiar they were, that very same familiarity reassured her. How could they not? 

Again, the homesickness rose. Again, Olivia shoved it down in favour of planning the next hours. 

That was the weird thing about being alone, time flowed very differently. In a group, she’d often lived through days at a time without thinking much of it. There’d been moments where she’d felt each passing second, but those’d been rare. 

Now she had those sorts of days almost constantly. They were both nice and overwhelming. They made her wonder about the future. How was eternity going to look if she spent it alone?

At that thought, Olivia looked at the wolf. It’d eaten half of the chunk she’d given it. It looked at her with half-closed green eyes, very content. 

“How long will you be here?” Olivia murmured. 

He blinked. 

Olivia started. There were spirits that took on the form of deer and stags. She’d never stopped to wonder if they were actually female and male in those cases. Was there supposed to be a difference here? She didn’t know anything about wolves to be able to tell the difference. 

And yet, she was starting to think that the wolf was actually a ‘he’. It was a gut feeling. 

If these spirits were once a part of someone’s soul, then it was possible to know that, wasn’t it? 

Olivia shook her head. While she had a lot of time to think, there was little chance she’d spend said time wondering about how spirits came to be. That was the calling of fairies and only fairies. They spent their time devoted to uncovering all they could about the world and its magic. 

All she needed to know was how to use the darkness to fight and heal. She didn’t want to learn more. She certainly didn’t want to know why she’d gotten said magic either. The moon had willed it. She no longer cared about why. 

She just hoped that it'd helped Yerim. She'd seen enough of her light to know she'd survived, but she didn't know what else had happened. She'd run away as soon as she'd seen the other Astra. 

When she fell asleep, she dreamed of lightning crawling along her arms, searing the blood in its veins as it went. She dreamed of filling grey eyes with darkness. She dreamed of screaming and then silence. 

_______

Vivi loved being alone. She’d come across two spirits, but had turned them surprisingly easily. They must’ve not been the serious ones. The ones who’d gotten to Jungeun or Elre. 

She felt a pang of guilt then. The Astra needed numbers. They needed everyone who could summon some sort of light, either to fight, or to help the healers.

Jinsoul was one of them, and Vivi could easily say she was one of their best people. It wasn’t just how she acted, but how people looked to her and even talked about her. Despite the prejudice against non-Astra, she’d never heard a bad word said against the blonde healer. 

She couldn’t say the same for Jungeun. There was a begrudging respect there, because Jungeun seemed to have done a lot in her time here. Enough to at least be acknowledged that she was useful to them. Still, people still put a lot of emphasis on Jungeun and her magic of fire. 

Vivi wondered if she’d end up like her in a hundred years. If the peak of her position would involve reluctant respect. She’d been like that in her clan. It hadn’t been so terrible. Not great, but not bad either. 

Not for the first time, she debated not going back. Some people lived well on their own, sometimes even coexisting with humans. Vampires, if not rabid by bloodlust or made completely ruthless by immortality, could be excellent company too. Witches were similar, once you overcame their pride and penchant for mischief. 

Then again, Vivi wanted a place to call home. She wanted to be around others like her and people she respected. The Astra shared her magic and had some worthwhile people. Vivi knew only three people who’d shared her stone magic. One of them had been a fairy, a delightful one with whom she’d spent a few days, as well as nights, every now and then. 

And this was an entire society, one where she could learn even more, and one where she had seen people who had good minds and even better hearts. 

Green eyes flashed in her mind. She shook her head. Haseul wasn’t the one to dwell on. She had everything else colliding in her life. Her great ability to lead put her in a place of responsibility. Haseul took everything upon herself to do what was right. Vivi wondered when that'd become too much for her. She didn't exactly want to help her with that, or be there when Haseul's limit was reached. Vivi had fulfilled many roles in her life, but a leader had never been one of them. 

So was she supposed to be of any help to Haseul? Especially now? 

She sensed more spirits then. Vivi fought a sigh and summoned her light. 

It was a badger, deep red. She saw in its eyes that it didn’t want to hurt her. It just eyed her sword. 

She let it disappear. 

The badger then looked somewhere behind her. It looked both cautious and curious. 

Vivi followed its gaze. 

The pink deer emerged from the trees. It looked from side to side, before finally looking at Vivi. 

She was struck by the colour. Emerald green. Had they been that same colour before? Or had time changed it? 

“Hello.” She knelt down. 

The deer neared, slowly. It was slimmer than ones she’d seen. Or was it because it was just thinner? 

She squinted at its sides. She saw the outline of its ribs. 

The deer was staring at her hands now. Her skin was glowing. Did it want the light? That’d make sense, especially if it’d been turned by said light already. 

“I can’t give you much,” she muttered. Then she stretched out a hand, letting a small chunk of moonlight appear. 

The spirit came closer and took the light into its mouth. There were a series of crunches. It closed its strange green eyes, looking extremely content. 

Vivi smiled. “Does that help?”

The deer swallowed. 

She watched as its light became a bit brighter. 

It made her wonder, if the spirits could feed and if they were capable of feeling emotions, how did they differ from animals? The first time she’d seen them, Jungeun and Jinsoul had told her that it wasn’t normal for the spirits to be physical entities. And now they could eat off of people’s hands and sink their teeth into others. What was that supposed to mean? 

Vivi wondered if she could actually do it. If she asked the right elves, as well as the right fairies, maybe she’d figure it out. 

Then again, did figuring that out matter? What would the reasons matter if no solution could be found that way? The Astra, as flawed as they were, just focused on turning the right spirits and giving others the means to do it. That took care of the problem pretty easily. 

She kept walking. The deer sometimes scampered off, before returning to her side. She wondered how the spirit saw her. Was she its caregiver? Or just an ally? Did it even know the difference? 

A distant roar took her out of it. 

She saw the deer straighten, before sprinting away. She watched its light flicker between the branches. 

_Not a guardian_ , she thought. 

Then she looked to where the deer had whipped its head. She also saw light between the trees. Just looking at it, she started to feel ill, as if what little food she’d eaten had turned foul. 

The sound of heavy footfalls began. The light moved quicker through the branches. Vivi felt even sicker. 

She started running in the opposite direction. In the back of her mind, it was almost funny how she was running again. 

Haseul’s last words to her filled her head. 

_You run. There’s no fighting one of those._

She supposed that if the information saved her life, she’d have to go back and thank the girl. Even if it was common sense to run if the sight of something made her want to vomit. 

She could feel the spirit nearing. It was a lot faster than her. 

Vivi cursed. She erected stone outcrops behind her, hoping to slow the spirit. It was all she could do. The light wouldn’t help her here. 

______

When Olivia awoke, she heard a scream. 

Olivia got up, bashing her head against the roof of the cave in the process. Then she scrambled outside. The sun was setting. Olivia barely stopped to consider how long she’d slept. 

Her skin burned as she ran to where the sound came from. 

She stopped when she saw the light. 

They were Astra. 

They were being attacked by bright spirits. 

They’d already been hurt by one. 

Should she let the rest happen? 

Olivia saw pink in the distance. Was that the colour of their hair? 

There was the sound of rock scraping against rock. 

Olivia looked to the source. Before her eyes, a boulder melted. 

Melted. 

The grey soup shot past Olivia in the next moment.

She blinked, still stunned. Then she heard the next set of crackling. 

She snapped out of her stupor and forced her feet to move. 

As she neared, Olivia saw that the elf did indeed have pink hair. One of the spirits had been impaled by a spear of rock. The elf held a large piece of rock, wielding it like a normal sword. 

Another pair was approaching. Two pairs of bright spirits were rare, almost unheard of when it came to the aggressive bright ones. But they'd come for this girl. 

Olivia took that one on. She called on the long shadows the setting sun had made. They came to her slowly. 

In that time, she kicked one spirit away. She swung her blade at the other one. It dug into its entire side. It yowled and immediately began to turn. 

Olivia tackled the first spirit. It was a slim lioness. Her hands burned where she touched it, but the darkness in her skin was stronger than the light. It hissed at her, but soon began whimpering. Her pale blue coat turned midnight blue. 

She stood. The one the pink-haired elf had impaled was slipping away from the rock. Its body reformed as it broke away. 

Olivia lunged for it, a dagger forming in her hand as she moved. She drove it into its head. Darkness flooded its body. 

Another cry entered the air. 

She turned to see the elf trying to wrestle her foot away from the clutch of a tiger. Her side had already been clawed at. 

Olivia pulled on the shadows. The air around them darkened. She sent it to wrap around the tiger. 

It didn’t let go of the girl’s leg, but it did whine. She made the darkness solid and drove the shards into the tiger’s body. It roared and let go of the elf. It tried to go for Olivia, but dodged. 

Then it fell still. 

______

“She was in Huyeo.” 

That was close. Gowon glanced back. The thought of Hyejoo always tugged at her. There was pain, something Gowon constantly felt. Time hadn’t dulled it. 

The witch spoke with Sooyoung, her expression serious, but her eyes betrayed her interest. Gowon was quite sure her name was Doyeon. 

They’d seen her before. Sooyoung had gone to her to try and find a solution to Gowon’s pain. She hadn’t known the real reason then, but she’d tried to solve it in spite of her ignorance. 

“There’s some sort of connection to meat and a few pieces of silver,” the witch’s eyes glazed over, “probably sold something to get some sort of profit.” Her magic involved a lot of scrying and tracking. 

Meat and silver. Was that really all she wanted? 

Briefly, Gowon wondered what Hyejoo might’ve done to get the money. Was she stealing for it? 

“Did you,” Sooyoung began, “hear anything else?” Her tone was getting a bit desperate. She leaned forward. “Was she hurt? Did she—”

“I can’t see that,” Doyeon said. “But if she’s eating, that usually means you’re not that sick.” 

Beside Gowon, Jiwoo had taken to inspecting the ceiling of the house. She wore a false mask of peace. 

“It’s alright,” Sooyoung sighed, “thank you for this.” She flashed her a warm smile before turning away. 

The smile immediately faded. 

The witch looked after her. Gowon had to fight the urge to tell her that any affections she might’ve developed for Sooyoung were very much in vain. 

“Come on,” Sooyoung said. “We’ve been gone too long.” She stalked away, several paces in front of them both. The mortals still out stopped in their tracks, gawking. 

Jiwoo put a hand to Gowon’s shoulder. “She’s alright,” she whispered. 

“She just bought food,” Gowon replied, ignoring a vendor trying to sell her his last catch from the river. “That doesn’t mean she's safe.” 

She’d been sent here by someone. Alluin. The name only Hyunjin knew. Naturally, no other explanation had reached their ears. Gowon still thought them lucky that Heejin hadn’t tried to forcefully keep them from the search. 

_Wouldn’t be the first time_ , she thought. That memory didn’t sting. It was just a reminder that those bridges would never be fixed. And rightly so. Jiwoo might've done enough to earn a bit of respect, Sooyoung as well, but Gowon had done nothing. 

And now they had another. She could still see Viian’s look of disdain and disappointment. The newcomer hadn’t come back. It'd been a few days already. Gowon hoped she was safe. 

There’d been two questions about Viian's whereabouts. No one else had seemed to care. 

They reached the others. 

Teveril looked up the moment Sooyoung was within sight. He was watching her, eager to meet her eyes. 

Gowon couldn’t see Sooyoung’s face, but she knew she’d not pay him much attention. 

“She’s going south,” Sooyoung said. 

Huyeo was in the east. 

“I’ve already seen spirits coming our way,” Kolina said. “Over there.” She pointed south-east. She was a seer, but not completely. She couldn't see bonds between people and usually only saw the paths of spirits. It was definitely more useful on hunts and patrol than anything else. Naturally, Kolina went on hunts, not quite stooping to patrol or guard duty. 

“Wear them down.” Sooyoung looked at each of them. When she met Gowon’s eyes, her own gaze softened. Reassuring. 

It didn’t work. 

Jiwoo nodded then. “Rather than have one person expend all their light, just use a portion of it.” 

Teveril scoffed. “That takes too long. You want to cleanse one while the rest of us get three?” 

The other three with him nodded, sniggering slightly as well. 

"And then three of you get sent home, while we keep going?" Sooyoung raised a brow. "We have to _ration_ the light." 

He shrugged, a bit of playfulness still in his gaze. “We can always compare numbers after.”

Sooyoung didn’t respond. She only strode south-east. 

Jiwoo and Gowon had no choice, but to walk faster. The speed she was using meant she wanted to tell them something. 

Sure enough, as soon as they were out of earshot, she broke the silence. 

“Teves still wants to go to the villages together,” Sooyoung muttered. “As if that’d be his opportunity.” 

“He’s trying to help,” Jiwoo replied. “And it might be useful to have more people asking around.” 

Sometimes, Gowon wondered if the girl enjoyed digging herself into a place of no return. Jiwoo had been the one who’d insisted that Sooyoung have a one-on-one meeting with the witch. And now she wanted her to do more with _Teveril_? Gowon didn't know how she did it. 

“He’d never ask the questions we want.” Their leader summoned a long curved blade of light. “None of them care about anything, except where she is. And even then they just want an excuse to drop by a tavern." 

Now Sooyoung turned a bit further east. 

“Faster,” she said. “They’ll follow quite soon.”

Gowon gritted her teeth. These kinds of hunts were always hard. 

Brighter spirits flit between the trees, used to the elves’ presence as they passed by, almost as if they were attracted to their light. Some still moved in pairs. She still didn't know why they did that. 

Gowon pushed the thought down. They needed those numbers to be strong. They didn’t need to wonder why they existed, nor what they were like. 

“Teveril would be better company than Kolina,” Jiwoo muttered. Why she’d insist such a thing, Gowon didn’t understand. 

_Digging the hole_. 

Sooyoung didn’t share her confusion. Instead, she just flashed a smile over her shoulder. “Don’t lie, you couldn’t stand either of them for long.”

Jiwoo smiled, but didn’t respond. Instead, she sped up to catch Sooyoung. She looked between them and nodded. 

Sooyoung fell back to Gowon’s side, while Jiwoo led them. Gowon still didn’t know how she did it, but Jiwoo was able to sense the variations in light even better than Sooyoung could. She had a feeling that it was related to how she'd known Choerry was in danger, but she hadn't thought much about it. 

Gowon herself could barely find spirits, let alone track them. She was a lot better at fighting them. 

Now that they were further off from the rest, Gowon felt a difference in the shadows. Some had extended, as if pulled in a different direction, while others seemed blunt—almost as if someone had carved away pieces. 

_Hyejoo_. 

Just the thought clawed at her. Gowon saw dark eyes looking down at her, sprinkled with light. 

Then she saw how that light vanished, swelled by two blocks of coal. Those same eyes were filled with pain. 

Jiwoo stopped. In her hands, she now held a spear. Its end was a round ball. She looked back and nodded to the base of a thick tree. 

She held it at her shoulder, ready to throw it. 

Gowon drew on the light she’d absorbed during the walk. 

She spotted the spirit. It was dark red, like the bark of some trees. Its eyes were purple, bright like Choerry’s eyes. Its form was that of a slender feline. It was beautiful. 

Sooyoung stepped forward, blade in hand. She’d leaned forward, her steps that of a predator creeping towards prey. 

A low hiss left the spirit, eyes narrowed and focused on the sword. 

Sooyoung was only a metre away. The spirit was poised to leap at her. If Sooyoung didn’t react quickly enough, it would tear her throat out. The spirits could physically hurt them now. And they never hesitated. If you stumbled upon the wrong spirit, you quickly realised that it didn’t have survival instinct. It just attacked. 

Then Sooyoung’s blade fell to the forest floor, glittering where it lay. 

The spirit jumped, but its eyes went to the ground. It backed away, its gaze going to Sooyoung and then back to the blade. Had it understood? _Could_ it understand? 

Then Jiwoo threw the spear. It struck the tree beside it with a sharp crack. 

The spirit ran off, its form blending in with the darkness. Within seconds, it vanished from sight. It was going east, not south. 

Sooyoung picked up her blade and sighed. 

They’d done it. 

Jiwoo brought the spear back to her hands. The point sharpened. 

Gowon released the light. The trees’ shadows returned. 

Then they heard a high yowling. Gowon felt the fear of the sound dig into her chest. 

She ran for it, hearing Sooyoung curse, but both her and Jiwoo followed. 

The next clearing held Kolina and her group. They surrounded two dark spirits. One was black, the other a deep grey with blue streaks.

The black spirit was already turning white, but it trembled as it did. Gowon heard it whimper. 

Both were benevolent spirits. This was exactly what they tried to avoid. 

The other spirit looked between the elf who had impaled it and the spirit itself. Gowon swore she saw pain in its eyes. It should’ve been impossible, but it was there. 

Kolina had seen them. She brandished a large club embellished with curved spikes. She swung it once and it caught the grey spirit’s legs. It looked like a lion. 

It let out a high roar and threw itself against the nearest elf. Its claws struck her as it tried to get out of the circle. 

Priad sank a blade into its chest. A whine left the lion and it collapsed in front of them. Its chest was a pale blue. 

The elves jeered, while the lion tried to put its paw to its chest. The darkness in it flowed from the wound like blood. A cry of frustration left it as it tried to roll around on the ground. It just wanted to get rid of the blade—to get rid of the burning. 

Gowon was reminded of how Hyejoo had tried to escape the spirits when they’d attacked. Much like that day, she only watched. Her stomach twisted. 

Now the elves backed away, waiting for the transformation, while Jiwoo had gone to help the injured elf. 

Gowon looked on as well. She wanted to turn away, but the sight of suffering was nothing she could shut herself off from. Not this time. 

The light had completely changed its legs. It looked around, weakly clawing at its chest. It still whined, as the agony from the wound, from the _light_ , hadn’t stopped. Its eyes locked on Gowon then. They were a glittering black. They weren’t filled with murder, anger, or emptiness, but desperation. The transformation was happening too slowly. It was only now reaching its neck. 

Gowon summoned a blade and threw it at the beast’s eye. It sank until the hilt. The head turned blue immediately and the spirit sighed. Its dark form was dead. Now it would become its light equivalent. Free of the pain. 

Its companion had risen, its head lolling to the side. It limped. It went straight to the lion and sat at its side, but not by the person who’d struck it. It was a small white wolf. Now it looked expectant, waiting for its companion to wake. 

“Good shot!” Priad clasped Gowon’s shoulder. 

She only nodded, watching as the lion’s eyes opened. They were fully calm, bright green and not black. Did it remember what had been done to it? Did it know how it'd been hunted and nearly tortured? Did it count as the same spirit?

So many questions, none of which should have ever crossed her mind before. They did now. 

Then Sooyoung took her hand. Gowon let herself be pulled away from the newly turned spirits. The blade she’d made had held more light than it should’ve. She felt tired. 

Jiwoo gave her a waterskin. Gowon drank from it gratefully. 

Again, they were silent until they were out of earshot. 

“We’ll find more,” Sooyoung squeezed her hand, “and then near the village as we go.”

“There’s a true dark one coming now,” Jiwoo murmured. 

One they could attack. One that truly suffered and needed to be given light. Unless that wasn’t true either. 

All she knew was that certain spirits would always attack them, and that they would attack mortals, while others didn’t. They took down those who attacked. 

Gowon would gladly strike those down. They never looked at her with pain in their eyes. They never seemed to plead with her to relieve them of that agony. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a bit of a change from before. Now we're finally back with Vivi and she's finally going to meet Olivia. How do you think that'll go? 
> 
> Also, I wanted to show a bit more about what the rest of yyxy do. They still go on hunts for dark spirits, but they have a different goal in mind compared to the rest. 


	19. Cave dweller

The spirit whimpered as it turned. Pale green became the colour of a stormy sea. Its eyes turned from yellow to pale blue. Vivi would’ve thought its eyes would be dark as well. 

“Why’re you here?” someone rasped. It sounded as if they were about to cough. 

The newly transformed tiger turned to where the voice had come, a place of more concentrated shadows. In the setting sun, that spot stood out more than anything else. Looking at it, Vivi felt both uncertain and curious. She also felt a slow-moving sadness. 

“Well?” A figure emerged from the shadows. They clung to her skin, reluctant to let her go. They left a tall, thin girl with hair the colour of darkness. No light reflected from it. There wasn’t even a hint of that in her eyes either. 

This was her. It was Olivia—or was it Hyejoo? If she were a mortal, Vivi would’ve said she was only a little older than twenty. 

Her dark eyes locked on her leg. She frowned. 

“This would help.” Olivia waved a hand, gathering some of the shadow as if it were cloth. Then it fell away. “But if they sensed it within you, the chances of your being cast out would increase.” She knelt knelt down in front of her. “Unless that’s why you’re here. One exile to the other?” A small smile appeared, but there was a tinge of sadness to it. 

“I haven’t been cast out,” Vivi said. “Not yet at least.” 

“Few Astra ever go out alone,” she studied her, “most call it foolish.” 

Vivi could almost agree with that. Her leg was on fire, but strangely bearable at the same time.

“I’m not Astra,” she muttered. “Not even a full-blooded elf.” 

Olivia’s brow rose. “Stuck between two worlds then?” Her fingers were fiddling with the shadows across the ground. They’d collected around her. 

Vivi watched as darkness travelled up Olivia’s arm in distinct branches. She’d heard them here of black blood. Was that true?” 

“Yes,” she nodded, “are you Olivia?” It was a name that’d probably be received badly, but she had to see the reaction. She didn’t even know why some used two names in the first place. It was like the growing custom of middle names in other areas of the world. 

The girl flinched, but there was no anger. She held out her hand instead. “My real name’s Hyejoo.”

Vivi took her hand. It was heavily calloused. Not something she saw often in immortals. Their skin usually healed too quickly for those. Vivi’s callouses had come from handling stone her entire life. 

“This may be egotistic, but are you here for me?” There was a small smile on her face. 

Vivi was surprised to see it. She’d expected to see someone brimming with rage like Heejin was. She hadn’t expected someone who could smile at a person they knew had gotten the magic of the moon. 

The stories of the Astra really had changed her perception. She’d thought she was above that. 

“I wasn’t out here for anything, really.” She shrugged. “But you could say I left because of you.” 

Hyejoo’s brow shot up. “How so?” 

“I heard a bit more of the story.” 

“And,” she tapped her chin, “do I live up to my reputation or am I underperforming?”

Vivi frowned. “What?” 

A light laugh. “That was a joke.” Hyejoo shrugged. “Probably not a good one.” 

Her leg flared with heat, as though flames were starting to lick at it. 

Vivi gasped. She looked to her ankle. Then to the bite on her waist. Both areas were warm. They glowed differently than her skin did, a sickly white, almost yellow. She tried to pull out the light. Immediately, she felt nauseous. A sharp pain started forming in her head as well. She stopped trying. 

“What is it?” Hyejoo asked. She moved closer, her movements slow. It was like watching a predator, but the girl’s eyes were only filled with concern. 

“I think,” Vivi looked closer at the injuries, “their bites are poisonous?” 

“That’s never happened to me.” Her brow furrowed. “But you’re not like me.” She reached out. “May I?”

Vivi held out her arm. It was too soon to say she trusted her, but she had a feeling Hyejoo wouldn't hurt her. She was also curious as to what would happen. What could Hyejoo do that other healers couldn’t?

Hyejoo’s skin was cool. That same feeling spread up her hand and to both bites.

“Are you doing something?” Vivi asked. 

“No?” Hyejoo let go. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” The uncomfortable warmth had returned. She felt nauseous. “I think you were helping.”

Tentatively, the elf reached out again. The same cool feeling happened. It spread to the bites, encircling them. It felt as if the cold was subtly reaching into her blood. 

The more Vivi concentrated on it, the more she felt what was wrong with the light in the first place. It made her feel angry, but also scared.

A sigh broke her concentration. 

She looked up to see Hyejoo’s eyes brighten, looking less like shadow and more like obsidian. Then they closed. She winced. 

Vivi made to pull her hand away. 

“It’s alright,” Hyejoo said. “Just started concentrating.” The cold feeling pulled back. Then she pulled her hands away. 

She watched as the elf’s skin glowed before the light sank into it. Darkness surged from the ground and onto her skin. It bathed her entire hand in black before that disappeared as well. 

“Better.” Hyejoo smiled. “What about you?”

Vivi nodded. “What happened?”

“I destroyed the light?” Hyejoo’s eyes fell. “Not anything reassuring to an Astra, I know, but I can do it with both types of light.” 

“Thank you,” Vivi said. “Did it hurt?”

She shook her head. “It’s just weird.” 

A part of her didn’t believe that, but she didn’t press her. 

“Thank you,” she said again. 

Hyejoo’s brow rose. “You don’t have to thank me,” she shook her head, “leaving you with a strange light like that. It wouldn’t have been right.” She flexed her hand. “I’ve done it with mortals too.” 

“There are people who wouldn’t have helped.” She wondered if that Alluin was the type to help, or if that was only to his group of outcasts. 

Hyejoo shrugged. “Me doing this doesn’t mean much either.” She got to her feet. “Need a hand?”

Vivi nodded. The burning had gone completely, but the gashes and bite marks were still there. They still hurt too. 

Hyejoo helped her up. Standing now, Vivi saw that she was a bit taller than her, but the girl immediately fell into a more slouched posture. Relaxed. 

But there was something else. Vivi felt something pulling her towards the girl. It was a subtle sensation, but unnerving. When she looked at her feet, she saw that the shadows of trees were all leaning towards Hyejoo. Her own was as well. 

“Hungry? My visit to town was a few days ago. I’ve got enough for a decent dinner.” 

Vivi was hungry, but should she say so? Hyejoo looked like she hadn’t been getting a lot of sleep. Her eyes were also more sunken, her cheeks more gaunt. It defined her features, making them even more piercing. Still, it didn’t seem like they’d been caused by an abundance of food. 

She decided to comment on something else. “What did you do to it?” She nodded at the tiger. It had prowled over to Hyejoo’s side. Even though its expression was almost friendly, Vivi leaned away from it. 

Hyejoo smiled. “I don’t know what it means, but turning them dark helps. You probably know by now that something’s really wrong with them, especially if they attack you.” She shrugged. “It’s also a she, by the way.” 

To Vivi’s surprise, almost horror, Hyejoo’s hand went straight for the creature’s head. Vivi had learned the hard way that touching a dark spirit was a good way to nearly freeze your skin. If being burned by ice was possible, that’s how it usually felt. 

And yet, Hyejoo just stroked the tiger’s head. The spirit’s eyes closed. Vivi wouldn’t have been surprised if it started purring. 

“Do you control them?”

Hyejoo laughed. “‘Course not.” Then her gaze softened. “They’re just grateful.”

Like the dark spirits turned bright were. 

Would you abandon the person who helped you?

When Hyejoo withdrew her hand, the tiger walked off, a spring in its step. It climbed up the nearest tree. As far as Vivi knew, she’d never seen a creature this large do that successfully. 

Then again, this spirit had also been made good by being turned with darkness, so what Vivi thought was ‘normal’ was probably wrong. 

“So,” Hyejoo crossed her arms, “food? I’ve got deer, rabbit, and bird.” 

“Do you have fruit too?”

The corner of her lip rose. “A bit, yeah.” Then she started walking. “Most of them don’t like an open fire, especially not after a fresh transformation.” 

Vivi noticed then that they were walking exactly in the direction she had been before. She’d been letting her feet carry her, but she knew she’d been going this way. 

She also couldn't put all her weight on her foot. She let a bit of light coat the ankle. A gentle warmth came over the skin. Some of the pain subsided. 

“Where’re we going?”

Hyejoo glanced at her. “To my,” she pursed her lips, “well you’ll see. It’s not a tent, but it’s where all the food is.” 

They walked on in silence. 

Vivi had questions, but she didn’t want to bombard her. If she had to go off what she knew, Hyejoo had been alone for a very long time. She didn’t seem socially awkward, but there was a degree of confusion on her face. Vivi didn’t want to overwhelm her. And watching her act now would show her more than asking questions when she didn’t want to ask them. 

The dark-haired girl didn’t break the silence with questions or remarks, or even empty conversation. She only looked around the forest. Was she looking for other spirits? 

“There it is.” Hyejoo pointed to a larger rock formation. “Where I live.” 

“Live?” Vivi repeated. She felt a strange familiarity seeing it, but she was almost certain she’d never come across it before. She sensed darkness coursing through it. Not the one that the dark spirits had, but the one that surrounded Hyejoo. The 'good' kind of darkness. 

“Yeah,” she chuckled, “I’m a cave dweller. Don’t tell.” There was humour in her eyes, but the words carried weight. 

“Should I leave?” Had Vivi made a mistake crossing paths with her? What if she just put Hyejoo in danger by being here?

“No,” Hyejoo said. “It’s just I’m on my way to making it my home. I don’t wanna leave it any time soon.” She looked at the rock with a degree of fondness. Then she let out a tiny, “ah.” She turned back to Vivi. “Earlier, with the spirit and the stone,” confusion crossed her features, “what was that?”

“My other magic,” Vivi replied. “I can control stone.” A very simplified way of putting it, but it didn’t feel like the right moment to explain. 

“Wow,” Hyejoo looked back at her cave, “so if you wanted to, you could bring that whole thing down?” This was also said as a joke, but there was a bit of unease there. 

“Or I could make it more comfortable.” 

She nodded. “Right, sorry.” She crossed her arms, her gaze falling to the ground. “Could’ve thought of that first.”

Vivi was tempted to reach out, but she thought better of it. “Most people assume elementals just fight and destroy. I was lumped into that with my clan, but they were the same people who taught me to think past that. Now I can do this." She tugged on one of the boulders and forced the stone to form a chair. 

Hyejoo scoffed then. “That’s the difference. You’re taught to think.” A harshness had entered her voice. 

It was the first time Vivi was seeing the anger that sometimes took over Yeojin and Heejin. Surprisingly, it didn’t scare her. It just made her want to know the exact root of that anger and help Hyejoo quell it. What if she asked an emotional fae to help? 

Then again, that probably wouldn’t help. And if they did, it’d have a cost. Emotional magic could be unpredictable. And she didn’t even know if Hyejoo would agree. 

The two of them climbed a short stretch of stone. It was well hidden between bushes and other outcroppings of rock. The foot- and handholds weren’t natural. Vivi felt flecks of darkness in the grooves as she climbed. They tugged at a deep sadness, one she’d only felt a few times in her life. 

At the top was a small plateau. Naturally formed. It disappeared into a low-hanging mouth of darkness. Hyejoo went straight for it. Vivi followed. She felt how the shadows around them also followed the elf. There was a tugging sensation, as if the ground was about to drift away from her. She’d felt a bit of that earlier, but not to this degree. Was Hyejoo holding herself back from doing something with Vivi’s shadow? 

“Can you already glow?” Hyejoo asked. The shadows fell away, but Vivi could barely see the inside. She knew how big the cave was, as well as how the walls and ceiling had been worked away, bit by bit. Hyejoo had been trying to make the place bigger. How long had that taken her? It was something that would’ve taken Vivi a few minutes to do. 

Vivi let some of the light go. Her skin burst to life. The cave was flooded with light. 

Hyejoo averted her eyes. 

“Sorry,” Vivi muttered. She pulled the light away from her skin. It dimmed. 

She looked around, catching sight of a sorry excuse for a bed, laden with a set of thin blankets. She saw a flat stone, also carved out by darkness. On it was what Vivi could only hope was meat, wrapped in cloth, as well as a few loaves of bread. 

I’m well on my way to making it my home. 

“Here.” Hyejoo handed her a stone bowl. It was filled with some apples, cherries, and berries. “Some’re bruised, but they’re not bad.” 

In this light, Vivi saw even more of the girl’s features. She looked worn. All around her neck were markings. If they were burns or scratches, Vivi couldn’t tell. 

“Thank you.” Vivi took the bowl. 

Hyejoo hummed in response. She was gathering some wood from another part of the cave. In her other hand was a slab of meat. 

“I’ll make the fire.” Then she went outside. 

Vivi followed with the bowl of fruit. She took out an apple and bit into it. It was indeed partially soft, but she still ate it. Surprisingly, a fair amount of her clan had turned their noses up at the thought of such food. Her brief time with the Astra had shown her that they, or at least Haseul and Yeojin, hardly ever wasted food. But, as always, things got both complicated, and easier, once there was someone with plant magic. She wasn’t sure if Choerry could reverse the process of decay, but she’d seen the girl spend a good amount of time on the Astran garden. 

Hyejoo was on all fours, tracing a fire sigil with a small black pick. 

“So what do you know?” Her tone made it seem like a casual conversation. 

Not enough, Vivi thought. ‘Casual’ had been the last thing on her mind when she thought of the mysterious Olivia. “That you got the magic of darkness instead of moonlight. You were exiled for it. And I heard stories of what you did afterwards.” 

Hyejoo nodded. She stacked the wood over the sigil in a neat tower. “I only ever killed one human,” she said. “The rest weren’t me.” She completed the sigil and fire erupted from it. “But I stole from them and might’ve traumatised a few.” Her eyes were glued to the flames. “As far as I know, the mental fae helped out there.”

One human. Vivi wondered how that'd happened. With the regret Hyejoo's eyes at that, she thought against asking her about it. 

“Emotional ones as well,” Vivi said. “They step in if a wolf’s gone out of control too.” Or any other supernatural. Feral vampires, either driven mad by an elf, fairy, or witch, could also end up tormenting entire villages. Vivi had always been glad she hadn’t been born with a connection to the mind or emotions. She preferred hunting down those vampires to reliving memories or feeling someone else’s terror. 

The meat was held over the meat with a black stick. It looked out of place, using darkness to cook. It’d also been bizarre to see people cooking with light. They ate it too. Vivi wondered if Hyejoo did the same. 

“And Alluin?” Vivi asked. 

“Isn’t a demon.” She met her eyes. “No one I wanted to follow for long, but he isn’t evil. If that’s what you’ve been hearing.” 

“I didn’t hear anything, really,” she admitted. “Hyunjin did, but I don’t know how.” She remembered that the detail had been forgotten on that day. 

Hyejoo looked surprised. Then worried. “How are they? Hyunjin, Yerim, Yeojin—I know Hyunjin took the darkness from the house,” guilt filled her eyes, “but I didn’t get to see if Yerim got out okay.”

“Got out from what?” Vivi asked. Choerry had already been out with Jungeun, hadn’t she? Didn’t that mean they took breaks after longer journey like that? She thought that was how it worked. If Choerry had gone out again, what did that mean if she’d come across another dark spirit?

“You don’t know?” 

“I left a few days ago. Right after they came back from seeing you.” 

“Oh.” Hyejoo sat back. She twisted the spit of meat. The furrow in her brow hadn’t gone. 

“How did Hyunjin take the darkness?” Vivi asked. “Astra can’t control it.”

“No,” she said. “But when something like this happens.” She glanced at the cave. “I mean, things like people getting killed with darkness, or places where the cruelty of an immortal is out of control,” she sighed, “it leaves the place corrupted. With their light, Astra can destroy a lot of it and it isn’t dangerous for mortals anymore.” 

The words hung. Hyejoo continued to cook her food. Vivi finished her apple. 

“But they absorb some of the darkness?” 

Hyejoo nodded. “I saw it happen with me, mine,” she pointed at her shadow, “it stuck with Yerim. I don’t know if it disappears with time, or anything. Just that it goes right in.” 

Vivi knew she must have looked confused. Hyejoo just gave her a small smile. 

“You probably got the whole thing on light being focused in different places.” Her smile fell away. “Mine was in my eyes.”

“I did,” Vivi said. “So those’re the weak spots?”

“Sort of,” Hyejoo shrugged, “but most people—Astra, have a key part of their light in their heart and head.” She took away the meat and a plate of darkness appeared. 

“And if that’s overcome, they die.” Vivi thought of Elre, someone she barely knew, but whose death had come as a complete surprise. Few immortals were ignorant of death, most were painfully aware of its reality. That didn’t mean that every immortal grew numb to it. 

“Seen it happen?” The elf’s expression was unreadable. “With how the spirits are changing, it’s probably gonna keep happening.” 

Vivi tried to sift through her tone. She tried to see if there was regret, guilt, or satisfaction. She found none of those things. 

______

Haseul found Yeojin sitting by the river, downstream from where Choerry was, surrounded by a shield of dirt. She didn’t know if Yeojin was waiting for something or guarding. 

“Did you eat yet?” 

Yeojin jumped, but relaxed when she saw her. 

“No.” She eyed the food Haseul held. “Is that a plate?” 

Haseul looked at the iron platter. “Sort of.”

She raised a brow. “I thought you had a good stock.”

“I do,” she nodded, “but that doesn’t mean I’ll make a plate just because I can.” 

Yeojin scoffed. “Tell that to Teveril. He can’t even stand using a silver spoon.” 

Haseul sat beside her. She decided not to comment on the Yeojin’s slightly swollen eyes, even though she wanted to. “Eat.” She put the food down in front of her. 

“They keep going out too far,” she said. “They’re looking for her, but they’re bringing back drinks and junk.” 

Haseul had seen fanciful food, wine soju, and other mortal luxuries. She agreed that it wasn’t right. 

“Some lost loved ones. Some think they’re losing them. They need the escape.” 

That might’ve not been Teveril, but she knew that Kolina was enormously stressed. Priad’s heavily unbalanced bond with Heejin had also continued to take a toll on him. 

Yeojin started eating. She glowered at the rushing water as she did. 

“And isn’t it better if they’re not looking for her?” Haseul asked. 

A shrug. 

Haseul’s chest tightened just thinking about what could be going through Yeojin’s mind. The guilt, the worry, the powerlessness. It was everything she knew, but nothing she wanted the young elf to feel. 

“Any sign of Vivi?” 

“Vivi?” It was an oddly endearing name for the girl, especially someone who fought like she did. 

“Nickname.” Yeojin gave her a look. “They exist too.” 

Haseul lightly kicked her. “I know, but were you the one who thought of it?” 

Another shrug. “She told me to call her that.”

Haseul had missed those two getting closer. How had she missed that? 

Discussions, she thought. Both with passing elves and the other Astra. She’d been too busy. 

“Do you think she’ll come back?” Yeojin asked. 

Her chest twisted. “I don’t know. After what she heard, and whatever she went through with the fairies, maybe not.” Even if Haseul actually hoped she would. There was a lot left to learn about Viian. There was also a lot to learn from her. Haseul hadn’t been surprised to see that Viian had lived through more moon cycles than she had. A fair amount actually. 

“But she’s not strong enough to be out alone.” 

“She’s not weak either,” Haseul countered. 

Yeojin raised a brow. “If Hyunjin’s got trouble out there, she’s got no chance.”

She had to nod. “But she might be stubborn enough to try.” Which was even more worrying. 

“Then she might die.” Orange eyes were slowly filling with anger. Again. “Because we’re just that shitty.”

Haseul was tempted to agree, but someone had to have the counterargument. “If she comes back, she’ll be able to see there’s more,” she said. “If not to us, then to our magic.”

“So what?” Yeojin frowned. “She learns what she can and then she’s gone?” 

“If that’s what she decides.”

“And what about having a home?” She set her fork down. “What if when I’m ready to get out there, I want to leave?” 

Haseul’s heart sank. “Would you?” 

The defiance faded. “Probably not, but if I did?” 

“You could.” It wouldn’t be the first time. Some had even come back after a few decades spent elsewhere. Hyojung’s group had barely been able to stand the Astra, but they hadn’t exactly left—just taken extensive breaks from their society. 

Yeojin smiled slightly. “You hope she’ll come back.”

Haseul returned it. “It’d be a shame if she left so soon.” 

The look in her eyes turned playful. Haseul was happy to see it, even if it was to her expense. 

“What’s better, her hair or the muscles?” 

Haseul threw a piece of apple at her. 

Yeojin caught it, cackling as she did. “I’m guessing that means both.” Then she moved on to the fruit bowl, no anger in her expression. 

“When you’re better, same for Hyunjin and Yerim,” hopefully, “you can go on the search party.” She didn’t mention that the position was freed because of Chuu. That would just ruin Yeojin’S mood again. 

She nodded, a small smile on her face. “Good.”

Haseul let herself relax as they sat there. Certain things were growing terrible and others getting even worse. But for right now, she could appreciate the brief moment where she’d gotten Yeojin to smile. 

______

“So why’re you actually here?” Hyejoo began to eat. Cutlery had appeared in her hands. She ate quickly, but not messily. “If you weren’t looking for me?”

She wondered if she should tell the truth. What would Hyejoo think if she told her what her exact reaction had been to hearing her story? Would it dig out the other buried emotions of anger and resentment? Or would it reveal something else? 

“I needed time alone,” Vivi said. “Jungeun and Choerry had come back, Jungeun injured, and then they’d told us that they’d seen you. I hadn’t known what’d happened, so they’d told me a few things.” Not enough. “And I realised why one person truly didn’t want me there.” 

“But Haseul has been okay with you being there, right?”

Vivi looked at her, stunned. “How do you know that?”

“She wanted me to stay, made it damn clear that she wanted to as well,” Hyejoo said. “And I’m sure she’d jump to your defence.” There was no trace of sarcasm in her voice. There was only warmth. 

“It’s not just her.” Vivi couldn’t forget that, even if the list was short. “Jinsoul, Choerry, Hyunjin, and even Yeojin don’t seem to be offended by my presence.” The same applied to Yves, Gowon and Chuu, but Vivi knew enough about the situation not to mention them. 

“And Jungeun?” 

“Don’t see much of her.”

“That’s nothing personal,” Hyejoo replied. “She’s just made sure she has the most amount of work.”

“But she works with the other two,” Vivi said. “I’m supposed to join their group when I’m ready.”

“She covers for them.” Hyejoo tore off a chunk of bread. “Always has.”

“They take advantage of her?” She’d seen that behaviour in many. She hadn’t expected those two to be one of them.

She shook her head. “Yerim isn’t ready yet for everything they do,” she said. “And Jinsoul’s a slave to honour and duty.” A shrug. “She doesn’t realise she can take proper breaks from the healing.” 

“But they value her abilities a lot,” Vivi countered. She remembered how Jinsoul had sat by the river, surrounded by waterskins. “I saw her try to go on patrol with Jungeun the first day I came here. Jungeun avoided it. She goes on more patrols with Yerim.” 

Hyejoo looked confused at that. “Those two’re complicated.” 

That seemed like an understatement. 

“What about Heejin?” the elf asked. 

Vivi shook her head. “One of the ones who doesn’t want me there.”

Hyejoo stopped eating. “But she was like Haseul,” she said. “Spoke up when the vote turned to me being banished or killed.” She turned her attention on the fire again. Clearly, the light from there didn’t bother her. 

“That was an option?” She felt her stomach twist. Even though the other girl spoke about it almost dismissively, she couldn't hide the tension in her eyes. The thought of never going back became more tempting.

“Everyone can be brutal,” Hyejoo muttered. “I met people who’d kill for money. I met mortals who’d do anything to get ahead, even paying for the death of others.” 

“But turning on your own isn’t so common.” Anyone could turn their back on you, Vivi knew that. But murdering her had never been an option. 

“But not exclusive to the Astra, let alone elves.” Hyejoo hugged her arms. “Didn’t one clan kill a fairy at birth?” 

Vivi remembered the outrage they’d felt once they’d heard that news. “The emotional fae.” She remembered how furious her parents had been. Even so, they hadn’t interfered. Neither had she, or anyone else. “He’d had the emotion of grief in his soul.” 

“What colour is that?” 

She hesitated. It would do no good to lie or avoid the question. “Black.” 

“Guess it could’ve been worse for me.” Hyejoo sighed. “Why’d they do it?”

“They believe your core emotion is tied to what emotion you’ll cause most in life.” 

“Is it proven?”

“One of the only times the emotional fae ever fought was due to a fae tied with red. Anger.” 

“I remember,” Hyejoo said. 

“You were there when he attacked?” Vivi asked. How old was she? The attack must’ve been at least three hundred years ago. Vivi was almost positive that she was younger, but by how much? Maybe they were closer in age than she’d thought. 

“They killed some people I knew,” Hyejoo said quietly. “But on that day," she trailed off, "I remember the anger he’d used on us. I remember how it burned.” Then she straightened. “But I know the Astra retaliated.” She chuckled, the sound empty of humour. “Just as brutally.” 

The Astra. She was all but fully distancing herself from that. 

“They did,” she said. Vivi hadn’t been anywhere near that fight. For that, she was glad. 

“Did they get people you knew?” Hyejoo looked pained. For her? Or remembering someone she also lost?

Vivi hesitated. “A friend.” A member of the fairy’s clan, but she hadn’t been responsible for any of the elves’ deaths. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“It was a long time ago," Vivi said. “Unless it hasn’t been for you.” Grief could stick with a person, always hurting every time the thought of the deceased crossed your mind. It could also fade into the past, becoming only a vague pain. 

“Always depends, right?” Hyejoo shrugged. “For me it's been a long time, but I can still remember the way it felt in my mind." She frowned. "I even rememebr how it felt afterwards."

“I know,” Vivi said. “But the majority of his clan almost always reject violence.”

“You know them well?” 

She smiled. “I knew only few very well, but almost every conflict they’ve had ended peacefully.” 

Another empty chuckle. “I bet you’ve got a lot of more wonderful stories.” 

“There’s a lot you can gather just from their stories. Lying, at least among those I knew, is rare.” 

“Because the right fairy can poke around in your head for the truth,” Hyejoo replied. 

“That,” Vivi nodded, “and there’s little use to it.” They lived too long, too closely together, and too exposed to keep up lies for long. “Conflict causes lies just as much as lies lead to conflict.” 

“I almost forgot you’re part fairy,” the corner of her lip tugged up, “but then you say things like that.” 

“Overly complex? Convoluted?”

“Wise,” Hyejoo said. 

She finished her food. Then she prodded at the burning wood. 

“So how’s living with elves compared to the fairies?” Hyejoo asked, a smile returning to her features. “Are we as divided and daft as you thought?”

Vivi smiled. “Yes. But not as different as you’d expect.”

She didn’t say anything, but the question in her eyes was clear enough. 

“Keeping someone like Alluin a secret may be difficult,” she said. “But the systems we have, like elders, scouts, and even the fighters—they’re all quite similar.”

“And the way you treat outsiders?” 

Vivi shook her head. “It’s not better,” she said softly. When she saw the disbelief, she continued, “I’m about eight hundred years old now. When the call came for me to come to the Astra, there was no opposition, except for my closest family.” Not even from her teachers, nor any of the elders. Her friends were sad, but they’d accepted her fate faster than she had. 

Hyejoo didn’t reply. She just looked at her with a frown. There wasn’t any pity in her eyes. Just understanding. 

“I was one of the few without any magic from the moon," Hyejoo said, letting out a small sigh. "I also had eyes like this,” she pointed at herself, “and Jungeun, Yerim, even Jinsoul, were always seen as different too.”

“Jinsoul told me it got better.” 

“Once you’re useful,” Hyejoo muttered. The resentment in her voice was familiar. Underneath it was also a flicker of rage. Vivi could feel the way her own light recoiled from it. 

They started talking about simpler things then. Some of it included what Hyejoo did now. She worked mostly for the witches, gathering what they needed, while also turning the worser bright spirits, if she came across them.

Hyejoo didn’t ask about her past. Vivi took that as indication enough that she should do the same. The closest they came to it was Hyejoo asking her about her magic. Vivi learned a bit more about Hyejoo’s, that it worked like the light, but almost never ‘ran out’. There was always darkness, be it the shadows made by the sun, or what was always there whenever night fell. 

In the back of her mind, Vivi wondered whether or not it was partially a blessing to receive control over darkness. It didn’t have to be evil, she’d seen as much today. Unlike moonlight, one always had access to it. 

It was a lot of power to have at one time. Vivi wondered if there was a cost. To use stone as a weapon, Vivi had needed to train for years, not just the magic itself, but also her body to even wield anything of rock. Emotional fae were stuck between their two worlds and almost always saw the multitude of other people. The same for the mental ones. 

That just left the question: what was the cost of darkness?

"Were you going anywhere?" Hyejoo asked. The moon was firmly in the centre of the sky. The elf had moved towards the inside of the cave. "Nearby town, to the sea," she hesitated for a moment, "visiting family?"

Vivi shook her head. "I just needed time to think."

The corner of her lip tilted up. "About?"

"Do I go back?" Vivi looked to the moon then. "And how different will it actually be to my old life?"

"From what you told me," Hyejoo paused, "probably not that much different?" She started looking apologetic. 

She just nodded. "But I did end up happy there." She made sure to watch the girl's reaction. "A part of me thinks it could happen again." 

The look in Hyejoo's eyes went from stunned to warm. She smiled then. "Then try going back." 

"It's that simple?" 

She shrugged. "You can always leave." Her smile grew. "But talk to Jungeun some more. She knows what you're going through more than you'd think." 

Vivi remembered the small piece of it that Jinsoul had told her. The first of the non-Astra to be able to control moonlight. A complete exception to the rule and she'd gotten there herself. And then Jungeun had been there for all the subsequent elves. Vivi was almost certain she'd do the same for her. It was a comforting thought. 

"If you're tired, you can definitely stay for the day," Hyejoo said, leaning against the stone. She looked more tired than Vivi was. "But I don't know what this kind of darkness will do to a person." She patted the wall. "Just that people who were attacked by spirits get nightmares and a lot of their negative emotions are amplified." 

She could see why that was a problem. She also got a small sense that Hyejoo still wanted to be alone. Vivi could understand that too. 

"I'll make my way back." Vivi stood. Her ankle felt fine. Her side stung. She'd manage. If she walked slowly. 

"Make sure you're using a lot of light," Hyejoo said. "Dark spirits hate light and the bright ones're also drawn to darkness. So, don't feel terrible." Another small smile. 

She grinned at her. "I'll try my best."

Should she say more? A part of her did want to take Hyejoo up on her offer. She wanted to know her more, but also keep her company. Solitude was good in shorter bursts. Sometimes, she could be alone for weeks. Others, she could barely manage two days. 

"Need me to make it bigger?" Vivi raised a hand. "I can double its size if you want."

Hyejoo laughed. "You'll take half my work from me." 

"But if you need more money, I can look for precious stones,” she said. Hyejoo had to wander the forest, gathering herbs and weeds for witches. That couldn't have been fun. “Or metals.”

The elf shrugged, a smile still on her face. “I’m doing alright. I’ve been getting proper food and slowly getting a home.” She looked up at her cave. “So I’m set.” Then she looked at Vivi again. "But thanks," she chuckled, "it's been a while since—nevermind." Her eyes fell to the ground. 

Vivi's heart hurt. How long had it been since Hyejoo had been the receiver of actual kindness? Whatever home Alluin had offered her had had the caveat of: steal and kill for the mortals—money is the reward. 

"Alright," Vivi said. She’d bring something back, maybe a few blades to sell to paranoid guards. Or ingots for blacksmiths. Something.

Unless Hyejoo didn't want her to come back. 

As if she’d known what was coming, Hyejoo continued, “if you do decide to come back, just make sure you’re not followed.” Silence. “And don’t bring anyone else, not even Yerim or Yeojin.” 

Those very people knew Hyejoo much better than Vivi did. They were people she knew needed to see Hyejoo again. 

The taller elf responded to silence, again anticipating her protests. “The seers may not be watching your path. They’re looking out for hunters and at the ones on patrol. Other Astra who leave for a while will be looked after, either by Haseul or someone else. Elders, or future ones, will—”

“Be followed,” Vivi finished. 

The response was a nod. Then it was goodbye. 

Walking away from Hyejoo was harder than it’d been leaving the Astra. 

Vivi couldn’t help but think of the loneliness the girl was bound to feel. At least she could still come back to visit her. 

Even then, she hadn’t even asked if Hyejoo wanted to walk back with her. She’d known exactly what the answer would be. 

Somehow, seeing Hyejoo had made it all the more clear. Vivi needed to go back. She saw little hope of fixing any bridges between Hyejoo and the Astra, but there was something else. Hyejoo could heal wounds of light and turn the bright spirits that attacked. She’d come back to this country and was probably safe here. That meant she’d stay. 

Vivi didn’t know how she’d do it, but she’d have to try and keep it that way. Maybe she’d find some way of fixing something else in a small way. Maybe. 

She knew she wouldn't make a lot of progress. For years, Heejin and Yeojin had been burying themselves in rage, Choerry had been grieving the loss of a friend, while Chuu, Yves, and Gowon had been drowned in their guilt. Gowon seemed the most weighed down by it. 

The only ones who seemed intact were Hyunjin and Haseul. The latter, however, seemed to have taken on too much responsibility for what’d happened. And she was looking after the ones most affected by it. Or at least trying to. The same applied to Jinsoul and Jungeun. 

Hyunjin, on the other hand, was near unreadable. It was either stoicism or numbness. Vivi couldn’t tell yet. Then again, Hyunjin seemed compassionate enough to still be missing Hyejoo. Vivi had no idea. 

She could at least try to figure that out. 

And to do that, she had to go back. 


	20. Too much

Waking Yerim up had been easy. Jinsoul had used a mixture the girl herself had made stocks of. Dim purple eyes had opened. Then they’d immediately squeezed shut as a cry left her. 

Dirt had risen from the ground to cover her eyes. 

“I know,” Jinsoul had said. “It burns, but I need you to make a place for us. Until it wears off." 

Yerim had just nodded. The ground had risen in an arc to encase them all completely. 

They were far enough away from camp, but it was best if Yerim was as far away as possible, while still being close enough so that no spirits would try to approach. Even if there was no light being shone on her, just the presence could be painful. And Yerim had gone through enough. Jinsoul still couldn't believe she hadn't been with her. She should've gone after her the moment she knew she was gone. 

Jungeun summoned a flame without any moonlight. It had an easy orange glow. 

Jinsoul could’ve easily done that with a fire sigil or taken a stick and cloth to make a torch. She could’ve done all that, but then it would’ve only been her with Yerim. She wouldn’t have had Jungeun sitting beside her as she cleaned Yerim’s wounds with unlit water. Maybe it was selfish, but she'd asked Jungeun to come with her. 

The cuts along her skin and the bite on her shoulder could’ve been healed with light, but she couldn’t risk anything going wrong with the other light. If too much darkness was difficult to treat, then too much light was even worse. 

“Why did you act as the bait?” Jinsoul asked. “You almost died. Couldn’t Yeojin and Hyunjin have helped?”

Yerim’s tired eyes sharpened then. She looked to Jungeun. 

Jinsoul followed that exchange. She watched as Jungeun nodded. Not for the first time, she saw that they had something she wasn't a part of. She felt a pang of hurt. 

Then the edges of the small cave sparked to life with tiny flames. Sigils formed. Against sound, even though they should’ve been out of earshot. 

“They wouldn’t have helped,” Yerim said, her voice hoarse. From the screaming? Or thirst?

Jinsoul still handed her a waterskin of untainted water. “Of course they would’ve helped.” She knew that Hyunjin would’ve rather died than let Yerim risk her life. And Yeojin, despite her anger and any potential grudges, would’ve fought with Yerim as well. 

Yerim shook her head. Her voice trembled as she spoke. “They would’ve died trying.”

There was a deep certainty in those words, something that shouldn’t have been in the girl’s voice. 

“I-I,” she looked up at Jinsoul, eyes now tearful, “I saw Hyunjin’s path disappear. I knew it would’ve happened—I know she would’ve died had I not tried something.”

Word by word, the truth sank in. 

“You’re a seer.”

Yerim flinched. For a moment, Jinsoul thought she’d tugged on a cut wrong. 

It’d only been a reaction to the word. She was scared of it. She was scared of what Jinsoul would think. 

“For how long?” Jinsoul asked. 

“A few years,” Yerim replied. She glanced at Jungeun once, uncertain. 

“You knew then as well?” Jinsoul asked the other girl. 

Jungeun’s expression crumpled. Seeing the guilt was painful, but Jinsoul was still too confused. It was too much information in too little time. 

“We hid it for as long as we could,” Jungeun said. “We barely knew what any of it was, but Yerim didn’t want either of us worrying.”

“But she told you?” And neither of you told me?

She shook her head. “What she was seeing, she freaked out on a patrol. Jiwoo was there too, I mean, she’d known what was happening, I—” She bit her lip. 

“Chuu’s a seer too,” Jinsoul said. Somehow, she wasn’t surprised. If she was in a better headspace, she’d have been able to remember the signs of that. Chuu had often had bursts of seriousness, moments where she knew exactly what to do. 

“And no one can know about that either,” Jungeun said. “She has her own reasons. Some’re Yerim’s too now.”

Yerim wore a look Jinsoul knew well. It hurt her even more. Yerim hadn't felt safe telling her. 

“I’m sorry we didn’t—I didn’t—tell you,” Yerim said. “Me having this—the Astra would hate it. It’d be like coming here for the first time, but,” she trailed off. 

Worse, Jinsoul finished in her head. “But I’d never think like that.” How had Yerim gone years with this secret? Why had she never told her? 

To quell the doubt and confusion, she gently dabbed at Yerim’s leg. It was a nasty wound. She could feel the heat of it through the cloth. Jinsoul cooled the water, before adding more. 

“You hate that the Astra can see the future,” Yerim said. “Just like how we hate how the emotion and mind readers work.” She lowered her head. “It was stupid, I know, but even though Chuu told me I could tell you, she hasn’t even told Gowon or Yves about it.” 

“And how long has she known?”

“Almost all her life,” Jungeun said. 

Jinsoul had rarely needed to keep a secret, let alone for very long. Something to keep buried for years, a lifetime? She couldn’t imagine it. 

“I don’t really know what I’m seeing yet,” Yerim sighed, “people I think’ll get hurt, I follow them just to watch them trip over a root. Then I see the paths people go, ones that even normal animals do, and I barely know how to sift through it.”

“And where does Chuu come in?”

“She’s teaching me how to see,” she said. “Slowly. I can’t get it right, but it’s better now.” Her lip trembled slightly. She blinked several times. The tears were about to come. She could feel them building. 

It was exactly the sign Jinsoul needed. She shoved down whatever hurt she was feeling. This hadn’t been her secret. It hadn't even really been Jungeun's. 

“I know I couldn’t help much,” Jinsoul leant over and pulled her in for a hug, “but I would’ve been there every day. Just like I’ll be now.” 

She nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I can give you all the reasons—excuses for—”

“You don’t have to. At least not now.” She pressed a kiss to her temple. 

Yerim finally relaxed. Jinsoul felt tears soak into her shoulder. She tightened her grip as well. 

Yes, she didn’t like seers. She didn’t like how they had to put so much trust in them, but she hadn’t ever been able to deny that they needed seers too. What she’d never thought about was that seeing the future was difficult. She’d just caught a glimpse of that now. 

And she hadn’t been there for Yerim during any of it. She’d just been telling her to grow more herbs. 

Jungeun and Chuu had been helping her master another application of her magic. 

Speaking of. “Come here,” Jinsoul muttered. 

Moments later, another set of arms engulfed them. They added even more warmth to the cold night. Yerim relaxed further, while Jinsoul found herself leaning into Jungeun's touch. 

“Is this why you never let me on patrols? They were training sessions?”

“Yeah,” Yerim replied. “But you were also busy.”

Jinsoul sighed. “You both keep saying that, but I can make time for other things. You just never let me.” She lifted her hand and pinched Jungeun’s cheek. 

“We’re almost on one now,” Jungeun said. When she pulled away, her eyes were shining. 

“Not so fast,” Jinsoul gave her a look, “you already broke your bed-rest period.”

She laughed. "You asked me to be here." 

With the warmth of Jungeun's arms still there and Yerim securely in Jinsoul’s own arms, she felt a lightness in her chest. When was the last time they’d all been together like this? When was the last time Jungeun had even come close to holding her? 

A part of her was glad to finally have an explanation. The other part knew that it was Yerim’s behaviour that made sense now. Jungeun’s still didn’t. 

She rid her mind of those questions. She’d gotten one explanation and the three of them were here together. She’d be alright with that. For now. 

“But why go off by yourself?” Jinsoul asked. “What if you’d have gotten away together?”

Yerim shrugged. “I didn’t know what else to do,” she laid her head on Jinsoul’s lap, “my path was fine.”

Then Jungeun stiffened. “What happened to it when you ran?”

A pause. 

“It vanished.”

Hearing the words wasn’t a surprise. What took her aback was how Yerim said them. Her voice was painfully quiet, while her eyes didn’t meet Jungeun’s or Jinsoul’s. 

“But it came back,” Yerim said. “And it did as I was trying to fight it.”

Jinsoul ran her fingers through her hair. That Yerim had been alone in the first place rubbed her the wrong way. She could've been there. 

Jungeun took Yerim’s hand. “And you did it.”

“Hypnos saved me,” Yerim smiled, “you heard they can kill each other, right?” 

Jinsoul nodded. “And he didn’t turn.” 

She shook her head. Already, her eyes were starting to droop. 

Jinsoul watched as Jungeun kept brushing her thumb over Yerim’s hand. Then it dawned on her. 

What Yerim had done, it was so like Jungeun, only she’d known exactly what risk she’d been taking. That wasn’t to say that Jungeun wouldn’t have done the same, but she couldn’t have. 

Yerim had. And she’d used that responsibility to change whatever she could whenever she had the chance. Jinsoul felt both enormously proud at how she took things into her hands, but also scared of how far she’d go. 

She’d been ready to do anything to save Hyunjin and Yeojin. Not many were willing to go that far. But when did it get too far? Yerim could save lives without risking her own. She had the potential to be one of the most well-rounded healers Jinsoul had ever seen. She was patient and everyone liked her. 

But Yerim also had a view into the future that only a select few had. How could Jinsoul to tell her not to use it? How could she tell her to turn a blind eye to any of that? All to make sure she was safe? What about the others whose lives she could save?

That is, unless she wasn’t alone. Unless they helped her. 

“Need to make an exit?” Yerim murmured, breaking the silence. 

The earth on the far end crumbled. 

“Go eat,” Yerim said. “Knock when you need me.” She made to move off Jinsoul’s lap. Amazingly, a small glow had returned to her eyes. Jinsoul didn't know how that could've happened. None of them were giving her any light. 

“I’ll stay.” Jinsoul pulled her back.

Jungeun hadn’t moved. “Me too.”

Jinsoul frowned. “The moon’s out. You need that.”

“So do you.”

Yerim chuckled. “Your paths are tied no matter what you do.” A pause. “And I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be sleeping too.” 

Jungeun reached out with her other hand and took Jinsoul’s. Her skin, like always, was wonderfully warm. “Have you even had something to eat today?” Her red eyes had gotten brighter. 

“I’m okay with being a lone cave dweller,” Yerim said. “Especially after you patched me up.” 

Jungeun squeezed her hand. Naturally, the firelight suited her. It bathed her hair in flickering orange and caught in her eyes. It was if her irises held actual flames. Sometimes, Jungeun could actually have eyes of fire, but only when she used her magic, was angry, or scared. Now it was just something natural. Jinsoul preferred that. 

“I’ll be back later,” Jinsoul said. “With your food.”

“And what about your other patients?” The corner of Yerim’s lip was tugging up. It was a bit too much of a knowing smile for Jinsoul’s liking. 

“One’ll be with you,” Jungeun replied. “Two birds with one stone.” 

Yerim all but giggled. Jinsoul fought the urge to pinch her arm. 

The two of them left then. The entrance was sealed again with dirt. 

Jinsoul spotted Yeojin a small way’s away. 

“You just have to knock,” she told her. 

Yeojin shook her head. “How is she?” No anger in her voice or expression. It emphasised how young she still was. How young Yerim was as well. How young Hyejoo still was. 

“Better.”

She nodded. Guilt came over her features. Of course. She didn’t know why Yerim had done what she did, not really. She probably just believed that if she had been with her, Yerim wouldn’t have gotten hurt. Hyunjin would be thinking the same, but worse too. 

“Don’t blame yourself,” Jungeun said, a warm smile on her face. “You—”

“I wanted to see it,” Yeojin said. “Where it happened. She came along. Hyunjin too.” She looked at the ground. “It’s my fault. If I hadn’t,” she broke off. A deep breath. “If I’d just stayed, none of this would’ve happened.” 

“Hyunjin would’ve gone anyway.” Jungeun spoke softly, but the certainty in her voice was plain. Yeojin looked up. “And she would’ve been followed, like you had been.” A pause. “Without either of you there.”

Some of the tension in her shoulders eased, but not completely. Jinsoul knew she was about to cry. She'd rarely seen her cry.

“I wasn’t there for them,” Yeojin muttered. “I’m sorry.” The first tear fell. “You‘re always trying to protect her and then I–”

Jinsoul pulled her into a hug. She wasn’t sure when she’d last hugged Yeojin, or even if she ever had. 

But Yeojin just wrapped her arms around her waist. I’m sorry came over and over again. 

“This wasn’t your fault,” Jinsoul said. She wasn’t good with words. Not like Jungeun. “It wasn’t anyone’s.” Except for Alluin, but she still didn’t know what the story was there.

A part of her wanted to blame the moon, but how could she do that to something that’d been able to save as many as it’d saved? Where it gave the ability to kill, it also gave the means to heal. Where it was the reason for spirits (probably), it was also the reason why someone like Yerim had the ability to stop terrible things from happening. 

Yeojin pulled away. “I guess,” she murmured. She wiped her eyes. Then she smiled at them, weakly. “Thanks.” 

With that, she turned away. She didn’t look back, but her shoulders weren’t hanging down. There was still grey around her, but it wasn’t anything worrying. 

Jungeun’s hand found Jinsoul’s again. The simple gesture gave her more comfort than it should’ve. Jinsoul had to stop herself from looking over. She didn’t know if she’d be able to manage it without closing the distance. She knew that now wasn’t the time for it. She also knew that Jungeun wasn’t ready. She rarely was. 

______

Jinsoul looked exhausted. It wasn’t anything to do with shadowed eyes, but instead with her posture. And the look in her eyes when she thought Jungeun was focused on her food. 

They’d chosen a spot by the river, away from the rest. Jinsoul was also refilling the waterskins. Jungeun hadn’t seen the process in a while. She’d almost forgotten the beauty of it. That might’ve been one reason why she’d stopped looking. 

“Your food’s getting cold,” Jungeun said. 

With a slow arc of her hand, a stream of glowing water filled a waterskin. 

“I’ve got you for that.” A broad smile began to appear. Her right eye glittered blue, while the other shone white. Some found their eyes unnerving. Jungeun found the blue and silvery-white just as beautiful as when both eyes were blue. 

“You took three bites.”

Jinsoul’s brow rose. “You counted?”

Jungeun blushed. 

The water fell back down into the river. There was no splash. 

Jinsoul took up her plate and held it out. 

Jungeun could only stare. That was all it took? 

“What?” Her smile grew. “I’m not as stubborn as you.”

She put her hand beneath the plate and warmed it. She also let the air around the food heat up. 

“Thanks.” Jinsoul started to eat again. She hummed a small tune. Jungeun remembered a time when Jinsoul hadn't sung. It'd been the first few years of coming here. At some point, she'd started again. Jungeun remembered how excited she'd been. She still didn't know the exact reason. 

“Have you been singing lately?” The blue-eyed elf also had a lovely voice, as if the rest of her qualities weren’t enough. She’d always said Jungeun should join her. Jungeun’d always refused. 

She nodded. “We had a little performance last month.” 

“Really?” How had she missed that? 

“You,” Jinsoul began,” were taking care of a spirit pair. That battle in the south.”

“Oh.”

Jinsoul hadn’t said it, but she didn’t have to. She also wouldn't show her disappointment. Jungeun had lost track of everything that meant “us”. Now, she only really knew about Jinsoul’s healing, not anything else. 

“I’m sorry.”

Jinsoul stared at her. “For?” Her left eye had turned blue. 

“A lot.” Everything, she thought. “We should’ve told you sooner. Yerim’ll say it was all her, but I could’ve tried harder—I could’ve convinced her that you’d have never thought worse of her. I always knew you wouldn’t.”

No response. 

Jungeun didn’t need one. She wasn’t finished. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there last month. You were probably nervous.” Even if she had no reason to be, with that voice. “And I’m sorry I’ve never been here. With you—for you—I mean,” she took a breath, “here.”

Jinsoul was still silent. Now she could’ve used an answer. 

“But I’ll do things different. Now that you know, you’ll be with us for patrols. Jiwoo’s also there for helping Yerim handle things, but she won’t always be. It can just be us three. And then we can help Yerim thought things, like when she follows the darker paths of people who need help. Anything like that, you’ll be in on it. And then—”

She broke off when Jinsoul threw her arms around her. The food was forgotten again. 

The scent of water filled her nose. She could barely remember where her apology was going. 

“It’s okay,” Jinsoul said, burying her face in her neck. “It’s okay.” Then she chuckled. 

“What?” She wondered if Jinsoul would feel her blush. That’d be embarrassing. 

“We,” she said. “It’s been years since we did anything.” Another laugh. Her grip on Jungeun tightened. 

Jungeun was stunned where she sat. Jinsoul was—how could she describe her? Jungeun only knew that she was wonderful. And that she had too much faith in Jungeun. She didn’t know what she’d done to deserve that for as long as Jinsoul had trusted her for. She didn’t know how Jinsoul found it so easy to forgive her for the past years. 

Tears pricked at her eyes. She blinked them away. Then she realised it was no use. Hiding tears was impossible around anyone with water magic. 

Jinsoul pulled away, a frown already forming. “Does something hurt?”

She shook her head. 

“Then why?” Blue eyes scanned Jungeun’s face. 

Jungeun knew then that she should’ve actually just said she was in pain. “Nothing serious.”

It got her a look. “I thought we were being honest now.”

She had her there. And Jungeun owed it to her. 

“I realised how terrible I really am.” 

Jinsoul’s brow furrowed. “That’s not—”

“It’s true,” she said. “I didn’t just lie to you for years, but I left you here. We never did the things you loved doing—not patrol, or seeing the fae, or elves—none of it.” 

“We did something,” Jinsoul muttered. She was giving her a look she couldn’t read. Then again, that wasn’t saying much. 

“Not enough. Finding Viian, or the yearly visit doesn’t count.” 

“I like those visits.” A small smile. “Seeing you with your family. With your friends.”

“But—”

Jinsoul shifted to cup her face. “I could’ve done those things whenever. I can always make time for it. We’re getting enough healers now too.” Her thumb brushed across Jungeun’s cheek, wiping away the other fallen tears. In the back of her mind, Jungeun knew Jinsoul could’ve just done this with her magic. “But those trips are boring if you’re not with me.”

“And Yerim’s sigil works better.” Jungeun had had terrible trips through the earth, because some people were just too sloppy with their sigils. 

She smiled. “Yeah.” 

Her eyes burned again. “You didn’t exactly make me feel better.”

Jinsoul forced Jungeun to look at her. Just how close were they? 

“How about this, you go on a trip, patrol, anything, and if you make time for me—and Yerim—then I’ll always have time for you.” 

“And if someone’s having a child?”

Jinsoul rolled her eyes. “We don’t get many and you know it.”

Jungeun had to laugh. “I do.” 

She pinched her cheek. “So don’t start looking for a way out.” 

There was a moment fo comfortable silence. Jungeun still wasn’t sure if she’d explained herself properly yet. She probably hadn’t. 

And then she realised that Jinsoul still had her hands on her face. She was still looking at her with gentle eyes. There was nothing but warmth there. Just looking into them made something in Jungeun's chest twist, while also making it feel lighter. Whatever cold she still felt from the darkness had faded too. 

It was too much. Was the smell of water getting stronger? Jungeun realised that something could happen here. Something she wasn't prepared for. 

“I think I know why everything that happened happened,” Jinsoul said slowly. “So I don’t need you feeling bad about it. There’s nothing I have to forgive you for.” 

Despite her mind being a mess, Jungeun knew exactly how she wanted to deny that. Jinsoul didn't have to forgive her for it, but she had a lot to apologise for. 

“Let me finish.” Her gaze was sharp, but still warm. “All I need is for us to not be like that anymore.”

“We won’t,” Jungeun promised. “And if we start, you’ll tell me.” 

She got the sense then that more could’ve been said then—that more should’ve been said then. 

The hands on her face shifted. Jinsoul’s gaze became more intense. The silence became strained. Jungeun didn’t know what to do. It was more than she could handle. Telling the truth and all that came with it had pushed her limits. Now she was well past them. 

Jinsoul pulled away. Her bottom lip had been pulled between her teeth. 

“I’ll tell you,” her smile grew, “promise.” There was something off in her eyes. Was it disappointment? Or relief?

Jungeun still felt on edge, as if she hadn’t done or said something she should’ve. She was both disappointed and relieved by that. More disappointed. Confused too. 

______

Chuu knew Sooyoung was waiting for an explanation, one she couldn’t, and wouldn’t, give her. 

Already, she pushed the guilt down. It’d be more obvious that she was avoiding the truth, but that was alright. Maybe even better. 

They sat around the fire, once again, in the midst of dinner. Chaewon had tried to make it, but as always, she’d been distracted. Now, the chicken had a slight charred taste to it. With enough seasoning, it tasted fine. They’d each laughed about it, but now they’d sunken into another silence. They had things to talk about, that wasn’t the problem. They just couldn’t talk about it in the camp. 

“Look,” a harsh voice cut through the uneasy silence, “I’m sorry for earlier.” 

Chuu fought the urge to gape. Yeojin was standing there and she wasn’t looking at them with complete hatred. 

“Choerry doesn’t feel like I do, I know. And you were just trying to help,” Yeojin said. A pause. She looked between them, shifting her eyes away as if the eye contact burned. “So thanks for that." She squared her shoulders and walked away. 

Chuu nearly went after her. She didn’t. It was a bad idea and she didn’t even have to look into the future for that. 

She looked too Sooyoung instead. She was as surprised as Chuu. The same for Chaewon.

“So we’re going out there tomorrow?” Chaewon asked. “Or asking around again?”

“Should we?” Sooyoung asked. She was looking directly at Chuu. 

Her stomach twisted at the word choice. Why was Sooyoung asking her? 

She continued before Chuu’s mind could spiral more. “Do you think they’ll be okay with that? Or should we,” she trailed off, looking over to one end of camp. 

Chuu found a proper response then. “Focus on getting the spirits around us?” She liked that idea a lot more. 

Sooyoung nodded. 

Chuu did the same. “We’ll be more useful that way. I’ll tell Jungeun about what we heard. She can tell Haseul or Hyunjin.” And they’d tell Heejin. She knew well enough that the girl wouldn’t trust a word out of their mouths. She hadn’t before and she wouldn’t tomorrow. That was their reality now. 

“Then that’s what we do.” Sooyoung’s face warmed with a smile. 

The corners of her own lips rose. 

Chuu looked back at the fire. It only took a smile to tug at the bond. A bond she still hadn’t freed them from, even though she tried. 

“How’re you feeling?” Chuu asked Chaewon. The bond was still grey, but it had thin tendrils of silver. 

Chaewon’s hand twitched towards her chest. Then it fell. “Like always.”

That meant it still ached. Chuu didn’t know how a constant pain like that was supposed to feel. She wished Chaewon could share it, then they could at least make it bearable. 

“Sure we shouldn’t go to the healers?” Sooyoung suggested. 

Immediately, Chaewon shook her head. No path appeared that went to the healers. The one that went to their tent had grown brighter. 

“Not the best time for that.” 

“And Jinsoul?” Chuu hadn’t really talked much to her, ever, but she knew from Jungeun and Yerim that the girl didn’t hate them. 

“She’s got a lot to deal with,” Chaewon stabbed at her food, “and this isn’t killing me.”

Just the thought made Chuu wince. 

Then Chaewon smiled. It was weak. “Don’t start worrying about me too. Neither of you have big enough heads for that.”

Sooyoung lightly kicked her leg, while Chuu chuckled. 

Silence came over them as Chuu made their tear. This was a blend of ginger powder and lemon. Yerim had gifted her the powder last month. 

She glanced up now and then. Chaewon stared at the space in front of her, while Sooyoung was looking between her and Chuu. She could barely decipher the look Sooyoung gave her. 

A question bubbled up in her throat. She pushed it down and turned her attention back to the now glittering cups of tea. She handed them out. 

Chaewon nodded her thanks. She sipped it, before cringing at the heat. 

“Thanks, Jiwoo,” Sooyoung said as she took her cup. She held Chuu’s gaze then. 

Again, Chuu felt warmth stir in her chest. Just being near Sooyoung made her feel at ease. It always had, even before she’d seen the bond, even before said bond had started getting brighter. 

When they sat apart, the bond dimmed, like a candle. But it always glowed again whenever Sooyoung decided she’d close the distance. 

Chuu saw the flicker of hurt when she moved away again. It always made her feel worse, but she let it. No part of her was willing to do something so drastic that it’d break the bond. Or Sooyoung’s heart. The only thing she could do was take gradual steps in distancing herself and turning Sooyoung away. The lies could be even more obvious and Sooyoung could stop seeing her as a friend, but Chuu would never abandon her to get what she wanted. 

That’d also mean leaving Chaewon, who needed both of them there. It just wouldn’t work. 

And Chuu couldn’t either. Was it selfish of her? Or was she just being weak? Probably both. 

“Seunghee told me about the fight,” Chaewon said. “Choerry let a bright spirit follow her. She tried to control its light.”

Chuu felt ice spread along her skin. Yerim had seen something She wouldn’t have taken a risk like that otherwise. 

But even if she’d seen it, the action alone was way too risky. Chuu had felt that change hours before it’d happened. She’d felt Yerim’s light leave her. 

Yerim had always looked up to Jungeun, Jinsoul, and Hyunjin. Their selflessness was what Yerim respected above all. 

Chuu had hoped Yerim would follow Jinsoul’s lead with healing and stepping in from the sidelines. But she was veering towards the front, sidestepping Hyunjin’s occasional rash decisions and going straight for Jungeun’s recklessness. 

Chuu worried about that. What Jungeun did was as admirable as it was dangerous. When she’d first seen Jungeun save someone’s life, it’d been when vampires had caught them off guard. Chuu had been in awe of how quickly Jungeun had changed to help Nina, pinned under a ravenous vampire. She’d gotten way to close just to burn him with her hands. He’d let go. Another had bitten her in turn. And despite the exhaustion from the venom, Jungeun had handled the situation perfectly. She’d also nearly died in the process. 

That day had gotten her a fair amount of respect, but Jungeun hadn’t stopped there. She’d stepped in again and again, sometimes coming away unharmed, other times completely beaten down. Then she was trying it again. 

Chuu knew that Jinsoul worried the most. She knew Jinsoul had picked up on how dangerous Jungeun’s actions were to herself. Her worry radiated from her each time Jungeun left. That usually showed itself as a grey tinge to one's light. 

And if Yerim started doing the same, it’d terrify Jinsoul. Chuu wasn’t sure if the healer could handle it. 

Chuu probably couldn’t either. 

“Where are you?” Someone had sat right beside her. 

The tension in her chest eased. 

Chuu closed her eyes. “Where’s Chaewon?”

“Tired.” Sooyoung’s tone showed her disbelief. It was nearing the yearly polishing of Hyejoo’s swords. Or was that today?

Silence. 

Chuu found clarity in her thoughts with Sooyoung so close. Enough that she could expect another set of questions from Sooyoung. Enough that she could prepare what lies she’d tell. 

“Should we really stop looking?” Sooyoung asked. 

Chuu nodded. 

She looked between Sooyoung and the fire. The flames reflected well in her eyes. Except Sooyoung seemed close to breaking down. 

Chuu chose the fire, while Sooyoung chose to look at her. Her gaze had the bond humming. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Nothing died on her lips. That wouldn’t work. Sooyoung would just press her for more. 

“A lot’s coming together,” Chuu admitted. “Too quickly.”

Somehow, Sooyoung looked relieved. “It’s a lot,” she said. “I don’t know what we’re supposed to be doing.” A sigh. “I don’t know what to do.” 

Chuu didn’t either. Not through her sight at least. “We at least know we shouldn’t look for her.”

The words hadn’t helped. 

Sooyoung’s gaze went to the sky. For the help Chuu couldn't give?

“It’s dangerous for the people looking,” Chuu said. “We can make that part easier for them.” 

“Hunts or patrol?” 

A simple question, but Chuu heard a greater weight in it. Patrol meant joining Jungeun. 

She shrugged. “What’s more efficient?”

“What do you like more? Both work.” Now Sooyoung looked at the fire. 

“Both’re risky,” Chuu replied. “Don’t really like either more.” She shrugged again. “But patrol takes us through towns. If you want to join Teveril when they’re next there, you can.” 

Sooyoung gave her a look. It’d been the wrong thing to say. 

Good, Chuu thought. 

“That’s not what I want.”

Chuu raised her hands. “Then don’t go.”

Her brow rose. “That’s it?”

Chuu frowned. “What do you mean that’s it? You don’t want it, so we don’t do it.” 

Sooyoung looked taken aback. 

She got to her feet. “I’m on patrol with Joshua. We’ll see what we do tomorrow.”

“You’re,” Sooyoung started. Then she shook her head. 

Chuu found herself wanting to know what she’d wanted to say. She stopped herself from asking. 

Sooyoung’s deep red eyes looked up. There was irritation there, but Chuu saw none of the strength from earlier. She just saw the uncertainty that’d started peeking through again. It’d been at its worst after they’d abandoned Hyejoo. Then Sooyoung had smothered it, but not overcome it. 

Chuu could’ve so easily sat back down. She even saw the path for staying with Sooyoung. That meant that even the moon wanted her to sit down. And if she sat down, she'd reach out to Sooyoung, ask the right questions, and let the girl spill her thoughts and doubts. That’d quell some of that uncertainty. 

But it’d also lead to closing the distance Chuu needed to maintain. Sooyoung would unconsciously, or consciously, forgive her when she shouldn’t. 

No, someone else had to give her that opportunity. Maybe she’d try to convince Priad and the rest to take Sooyoung and Chaewon to the mortal town. 

So, instead of reaching out, Chuu said, “I’ll see if Jungeun’s still awake. Then I’ll let her know what we’re planning.” 

Had Sooyoung known Jungeun well, she would’ve known how poor of a lie it was. She would’ve known not to be jealous. That she was sensitive at all to the mention of Jungeun was a bad sign. 

So now, Chuu had to watch as Sooyoung’s expression faltered. Her confident, yet easy, smile appeared. Her gaze had shuttered, removing all vulnerability that’d been there. 

“Okay,” Sooyoung said. Her gaze softened a touch. “Stay safe.”

Chuu nodded. “You too.” Oddly enough, her path shifted away from where she was meeting Joshua. She followed it. 

It took her to Jinsoul. Of all the people in camp, she hadn't expected that. 

She gave her a kind smile. “Did I thank you properly yet?” Jinsoul asked. “Because thank you.” 

Chuu shook her head. “I wasn’t doing the fighting.” 

“Maybe,” Jinsoul tilted her head, “but none of us knew. You did.”

The words and the knowing gaze struck her. Jinsoul knew she was a seer. 

“Jungeun?”

A nod. She told me. “Yerim’s okay too.” I know about her as well. 

Chuu felt both relieved and scared. She was happy that Yerim didn’t have to lie to a person who was essentially her sister. She was also glad that Jungeun didn’t have to lie either. That’d affected her more than it had Yerim. Chuu had yet to understand what their actual bond was like, both as three and separately. They hadn’t known each other all their lives as most Astra had. And yet they’d grown closer than other Astra had in a fraction of those years. 

“What about you?” Jinsoul’s eyes were surprisingly intense. 

Chuu raised a brow. “Unharmed.”

She sighed. “I meant how you were.” 

They started walking. Off the path both had been walking. Sometimes, people kept walking away from their future without even knowing it. Heejin was one of those people, so were Jungeun and Haseul. Sooyoung too. 

Chuu smiled. “Very tired,” she admitted. “You?”

Jinsoul’s smile reappeared. Chuu saw exactly why Jungeun was still enraptured by her. “Same. I’m crashing before the sun rises.”

Chuu laughed. “I wish I could. I’ve still got patrol.”

The other girl looked at her, the beginnings of astonishment appearing. 

“What? Don’t believe me?”

“I do,” Jinsoul said. “Doesn’t mean it’s not a shock.”

She didn’t say it , but the reason why was clear. Most Astra put patrol beneath them. Interacting with mortals, let alone fairies, wasn’t appealing either. 

“I guess I started liking it.”

That was when she saw it. She’d said the wrong thing without meaning too. 

Jinsoul’s brow twitched and she looked away. 

Chuu immediately wanted to tell her the truth: there was nothing going on with Jungeun, Jungeun’s eyes were only on her and not Chuu, while Chuu’s heart still—

“Jungeun’s sleeping,” Jinsoul muttered. “Just so you know.” Her tone was final. Let’s stop here. 

So Chuu wracked her brain for a different subject. She wanted to talk to her about Yerim and what’d help, but this wasn’t the right place for that. 

“We’re not looking for her anymore,” Chuu said. “Probably more hunts, maybe patrol if Sooyoung and Chae want to.”

Jinsoul’s brow furrowed. The look in her eyes was awfully close to pity. “Why?” 

“We’ll do a better job there,” she replied. “And we need to get the numbers we’re facing down. Somehow.” 

Jinsoul nodded. 

“So keep that spot free for when Yerim and Jungeun are better,” Chuu suggested. “You could get Yooa and Mimi on that. They knew her.”

They’d even offered to let Hyejoo come with them. Hyejoo had said no. She’d wanted to stay with the Astra—with them. 

Chuu felt a lump rise in her throat. Yes, not looking for her was the right choice. 

“It’s a good idea,” Jinsoul said softly. She put a hand on Chuu’s arm. “The rest we’ll figure out.” Her blue eyes were kind and surprisingly full of understanding. 

Chuu found herself believing that she did. Was that how Jinsoul always was? Was this what she’d learned by being a healer? Or was it just the person Jinsoul was. 

She wanted to ask Jungeun, but wasn’t sure if that’d ever be the right thing to ask. Two things could follow there. She could trigger exactly the wrong emotion, or Jungeun would smile, eyes shining, and she’d gush about Jinsoul for several minutes. 

“I hope so.” Chuu fought a sigh. What exactly they should be doing, she really didn’t know. She also didn’t want the moon to tell her. It wasn’t always right. She’d had to learn that. Now she knew it too well. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit more of an exploration of Chuuves and Lipsoul. This is set a bit before the previous chapter (I'm a bit bad at setting things parallel to each other). I enjoy writing both their dynamics. On the one hand, there's the development of soulmates. I always thought a soulmate had the potential to be really beautiful, but also quite the obstacle. That was seen more with 2jin, but with Chuu and Yves, it'll also be quite prevalent. Except here the two are actually bonded to each other. 
> 
> Let me know your thoughts, if you have any about the two pairings, or others. Reading your comments always motivates me while writing. 


	21. Just us

Vivi almost regretted coming back when she saw who was on patrol. 

“You’re back soon,” Heejin said. Her eyes went to the sky before meeting Vivi’s. They were cold, but not angry. Was that progress? 

“Disappointed?” She knew she sounded defensive. She was tired enough to not care. If they’d argue, they’d argue. She’d still stay. Besides, she didn’t actually have that much of a problem with Heejin, especially now since she knew the source of that anger. 

She shook her head. “Surprised that it wasn’t at least a month.” The mask flickered. “Some go years if they’re escaping something.”

Vivi spotted a burst of dark grey then. It emerged from the light that made up Heejin, as if it was always there. Then it hid away behind white and pink. After seeing Hyejoo, Vivi saw those changes more easily. Maybe because she’d seen that there was a depth to the darkness. She was also developing an eye for that. 

“Yerim got caught up with a bright spirit. Hyunjin took up the darkness from the murders. And there’re several search parties out. We still haven’t found her.”

Vivi took the moment of silence to process those things. Hyunjin was out of commission and Heejin had taken up her role in patrol. Surprisingly. It was a small wonder that she’d stoop to a lower job here. But was she all that surprised?

“And how’s Yerim?” Hyejoo had asked after her. She’d already known. 

“Recovering,” Heejin crossed her arms,” the first time you mix up with one of those, you’ll wish ten dark ones had gotten you.” The worry showed through in her eyes. 

Vivi almost said she’d had. She held her tongue. They’d wonder why she was fine now. And if anyone overheard _and_ connected the dots, she’d have already failed Hyejoo. 

It was surprising how one day, hardly that, had already gotten Vivi to care about someone. Maybe it’d been the fact that neither of them had hid anything. There was a lot that she didn’t know about Hyejoo, from how long she’d spent working for Alluin to whether or not she liked the soju of the nearest village. 

“Does any of this need me?” Vivi asked. “I can take over for you too, if you want.” For all she knew, Heejin desperately wanted to go see if Hyunjin was alright. 

Heejin’s eyes widened. She said nothing. 

The moment was almost comical. Heejin was an entirely new person when she wasn’t a ball of anger. Had Vivi not seen that side of her, the elf wouldn’t actually be that threatening. 

“I guess you can join,” Heejin said then. “The seers only let me out because it’ll be a quiet night.” With that, she started walking. 

Vivi followed. “They always know that?” What if they wanted to teach someone a lesson? Did they just let that person on patrol or guard? All while protecting the valuable ones?

She snorted. “No. Something can always go wrong. A simple branch can startle a spirit, sending it my way and they wouldn’t know until I screamed.”

Vivi just nodded. 

Guard duty began and it wasn’t like anything she’d expected. Heejin wasn’t what she expected either. 

There were others on the camp’s perimeter, but Heejin avoided each of them. 

She told Vivi a few more things about what was happening. Some nomadic branch of theirs had come back and they were talking about getting witches involved with spirit hunts. 

“Some hate it, others actually support the idea.” A shrug. “So it’ll probably work.” 

Vivi spotted a bright spirit. It didn’t make her feel nauseous. “Is this how it works here? Constant discussion?”

Heejin gave her a look. “We can’t come through each other’s thoughts, you know. Or see exactly what everyone’s feeling.”

Half of a fae clan's discussions were solved by that. The rest still went back and forth, sometimes. “At least we have smaller groups for that.” Then not everyone would pitch in. The ones who were involved were capable of leading the conversation and mediating conflict if it came up. 

“And what about the rest?” Heejin’s tone was challenging, but there was no bite to it. “Most of us will live for a while. Those decisions should be known, _or_ we at least have a weigh in on it.”

“That takes long.”

“Immortal, remember? We have a lot of time.” Heejin sighed. “And a lot of other people to do what’s actually useful.” Guilt appeared in her eyes. Then it vanished. 

“Like the hunts?”

“Like this,” she waved at the ground, “like patrol. The hunts are more sport. They’d be more useful if they didn’t always go overboard.” An empty laugh. “If we hadn’t had a fourth of us out who knew where, maybe Elre could’ve survived.”

Vivi couldn’t help but note the way Heejin spoke. Instead of impulse, there was consideration in her words. Instead of anger, there was just frustration. 

The elf also wasn’t glowing as bright. Now the question was whether or not she’d given that to Jinsoul, or directly to Hyunjin. 

“Is this too much?” Heejin stopped walking. 

Was she talking about the information? Or the fact that she hadn’t glared at Vivi once. 

“It’s unexpected.”

Heejin nodded, looking up at the sky once. Her skin glowed a bit brighter. “I’m sorry for how I acted,” she said. “You leaving made that even more obvious. And then I remembered what Hyun–someone told me.” She bit her lip. “Did you think I said that stuff because you’re a half-elf?”

“At first,” Vivi admitted. “It’s one of the others’ reasons.”

She grimaced. “They’re like that with non-Astra. The looks will change, but in a couple years, you’ll just,” she trailed off. The ice in her gaze had completely melted. She just looked tired. 

That was a trend Vivi’d been seeing with these elves. She herself had spent so much time devoted to her magic and family that she hadn’t gotten drained. One way or another, it seemed like Hyejoo’s banishment had weighed on all of them for years. 

“I’ll be like Jungeun?” Accepted, but not as respected as others. 

Heejin nodded. “You’ll hear it from her what it was and is like.” She started fiddling with her fingers. “But she said it’s better than staying at home, as the only Astra.” 

“Because they’ll come.” Vivi glanced at the forest. “And that’s all types of spirit, not just normal bright and aggressive dark.”

The corner of her lip tugged up. The humour in her eyes was sombre. “And we say it’s a blessing.” 

They kept walking. Vivi could tell that Heejin wanted to say more, so she waited. Sometimes, if a person’s pride, or other emotions, were in the way, one just had to wait it out. If they were a good enough person and had decided to try and overcome those hurdles, they just needed a bit of time. 

Instead, she just considered what she was learning about Heejin. She was the type to fill an empty role, no matter if it was a hunt or all the way to guard duty. She also seemed to be the sort of person who was in her head a lot—at least she’d thought through the politics of the elves enough to see its limits and its benefits. 

But there was more. She didn’t respect the seers nearly as much as other elves seemed to do. And someone had actually called her out about how she’d been acting. Vivi hadn’t expected that person to be Hyunjin. She was also surprised that Heejin had taken those words to heart. She was missing something about their relationship. Having spent some time around fairies who were either emotionally stunted, or fully in tune with said emotions, Vivi had learned to be careful around these sorts of things. 

And whatever was going on with Hyunjin and Heejin, Vivi wasn’t sure if it was even her place to ask. 

“You were right,” Heejin said. “I want the moon to be wrong.” Her voice had fallen to a whisper. “I’d love it if you were a random occurrence that had no significance in the passage of time.” Her eyes glowed softly. “Because then they’d be wrong about her,” she said. “They’d be wrong about Hyejoo. And we could bring her back.” She looked away. “So you were right. I’d wished you didn’t belong here.” 

Vivi didn’t quite know what to think. She’d expected a more elaborate explanation, yes, but not straight to the point. Not Heejin properly admitting to all of this. 

“No,” the pink-eyed elf shook her head, “I don’t hate _you_.”

“You hate that I’m here,” Vivi finished. 

Heejin nodded. “So tell me you’re disgusted with what I’ve done. You can even hit me with a rock or something,” an empty laugh, “and you’d be right to.” 

“But it wouldn’t change your anger,” she said. 

“No,” Heejin replied. “I’m angry at what happened. At what’s _still_ happening,” she waved to the trees behind them, “they’ll talk of how prosperous we are, how much better we are than the rest for being chosen by the moon.” She shook her head. “And there’re moments when I can see that, but also ones where the opposite’s true.” 

“Like when people are forced from their homes,” Vivi suggested. 

She nodded again. Then a shadow of something else seemed to come over her. “And more.” 

Vivi didn’t ask. She couldn’t demand that Heejin bare everything in one day. 

“So you’re stuck,” Vivi said instead. “The good and the bad make sure you’re stuck somewhere in the middle.” 

Heejin met her gaze then, but didn’t reply. Her gaze was expectant. Almost hopeful. 

“I wasn’t a true part of my clan,” she said. “But my family and others close to me protected me when they were able to. And my clan helped me when I began to properly study my magic.” 

“Studied it?” Heejin raised a brow. “Is there a lot to learn about,” her lip twitched to the side, “stone?”

Vivi was enormously glad that she didn’t ask her about life with the fae. She could honestly say her life was good there, but Heejin’s attention would likely only be on the negative. Vivi didn’t want to relive that. 

“A great deal.” Vivi smiled. “It’s often how we learn. The beginnings are difficult, even knowing what you wish to latch on to is near impossible, but once you manage the first piece of it, the rest is left to be figured out.” It was a distant time to think of, but she remembered the frustration, as well as the delight when something worked. “You could ask for help, but most questions were possible to figure out yourself.” She brought up some stone in liquid form. “Even if it seems impossible at first.”

The elf watched it. “You enjoyed that. A lot.” She met her eyes. “Isn’t it boring here then?”

“The opposite,” Vivi admitted. “The magic itself is more exciting than I’d believed it before. And there hasn’t been a dull moment around the camp.” And outside of it. 

Surprisingly, Heejin blushed. “I’m sorry.” Her gaze fell away. “I know I said it earlier, but I’m really sorry.” Now everything had fallen away. That included the casual edge to her expression. Vivi had seen early on that Heejin couldn’t hide her anger very well. She had the feeling that she couldn’t do the same with her other feelings. 

Vivi didn’t reply. 

“Hyunjin told me I was acting like I hated you for having the blood of elves _and_ fae,” she sighed, “and that was never the case, but—” She broke off. “But even then, I was still terrible to you and–and,” she trailed off. “And be honest with me about it. I know I was wrong and what I did just made coming here alone even worse.” 

It was as if the past few days, let alone the last hour, had transformed Heejin. Instead of someone who bordered on entitled anger, Vivi just saw someone who was nervous and ashamed. 

“The more I hear of what happened,” Vivi said. She thought of Hyejoo. “The more I understand why you were so against my being here.” She was tempted to reach out, but thought better of it. “And it didn’t make my arrival better,” she chuckled, “but that’s a memory now. It hasn’t cemented what life will be like going forward.” 

Not to mention, first impressions could colour one’s view, but they could be erased as well. Heejin’s was slowly fading at the edges. 

“And I’ll tell you now, that’s not forgiveness, just understanding.” She might’ve even been ready to forgive Heejin fully, but a few moments of regret weren’t quite enough for that. 

Heejin smiled. It must’ve been the first Vivi had seen directed at her. “I think you’d be a better elder than me.” 

Vivi snorted. “That wouldn’t ever be allowed.” 

She shrugged. “There was an elder from another clan. Not Astra, but they’d gotten close to us.”

 _There was_. “When did they fall?”

Her eyes darkened. “Tresteu.” 

Vivi nodded. She knew how destructive that emotional fae’s splinter group had been. He was the prime example for how dangerous the fairies could really be. He was also the reason why everyone ensured they had good relations with the emotional fae. Tresteu's core emotion of anger hadn't even been the full reason for his attacks. He'd zeroed in on an injustice and taken it to an extreme. Many had been dragged into that war. 

In those battles, families had been stripped of their foundations and left to rebuild. If one side had instigated, the other would retaliate. That included other fairies jumping to Tresteu’s defence. Not because they agreed with him, but because they’d wanted the excuse to deal with other conflicts. There’d been little point to any of it. Vivi was relieved that not more of the emotional fae had such a bloodlust. She was glad that almost all of them valued peace and the emotions that it brought. Even if they had a lot of flaws, they detested suffering. They’d made sure that Tresteu was the exception. 

“In this in-between with elders and not, what exactly do you have to do?” It was something she barely understood. Not-yet-elders seemed to get a lot of respect already. The younger elders got more than that. The older ones even more. 

Heejin chuckled. “It’s complicated. We’re involved with a lot of discussions for one,” she said. “And we started with a lot of learning, from the cultures of the main witch branches to the politics of that one fae clan far off in the south.” 

“I don’t even know the people who’re there,” Vivi said. “They isolated themselves long before I was even born.” 

A weight had lifted from the air between them. The extended moment of discomfort Vivi had felt earlier had dissipated. 

“Mostly, we’re either leading certain groups, or going to the rest to manage our ties with them,” she explained. “I do a lot with the fae, as does Haseul. Except she’s been involved with the combat side of things, like actual training, but also patrol.”

In the time Vivi had spent with the Astra, Haseul had been the one to teach her how to wield moonlight. It hadn’t been Jungeun or Jinsoul. 

“Is it normal to do even more than your normal role?”

Heejin’s smile was knowing. “Haseul has always wanted to do everything she can.”

“She seems to be capable of more than many give her credit for,” Vivi said. With how many only begrudgingly respected her, it seemed Haseul was thoroughly underestimated. 

“And forgiveness.” A fond smile appeared on the elf’s face. “She’ll do more for us than the rest ever did.”

“You may as well,” she said. “Given that you share her ability to talk back.” 

The smile grew. “It’s gotten pretty easy to do.” 

A more comfortable silence came over them. It was one Vivi hadn’t thought would be there for at least a year.

“What do you think about doubt?” Heejin asked. “Of both people and,” she broke off, looking up. Vivi didn’t need to follow her gaze to know where she looked. 

“It’s a friend.” 

“One you can trust?”

“Occasionally,” Vivi said. “It’s one to treat with caution. It can be exactly right or lead you somewhere you’d have never wanted to be.” 

Of course, that place could be the right one too. She didn’t mention that element of it. It took years to understand that. 

“If it’s of any note, I don’t believe it’s wrong to doubt the moon.” 

“Blasphemy.” Heejin was smiling. That expression alone made the girl almost lovely. 

“Maybe,” she returned it, “but something that decrees who’s considered family and not, that shows the future, the ties between individuals, and gives you the means to turn shadow to light…” How could she say that without speaking complete heresy? “It’s something that’s very easy to trust.”

“Which is dangerous,” the elf finished. 

Vivi straightened. Just those words were the perfect answer to the statement. Even so, she wondered how many held that belief. How many acknowledged that power like wasn’t necessarily completely good? Or reliable? 

“I didn’t doubt until I saw Hyejoo struggle with not having the light,” Heejin said. “Certain things made it worse, others made it better, but I almost rejected it when they turned her away.” Another dry laugh. “But I still stayed. I didn’t leave to look for her. I just stayed here.”

“Because it’s home,” Vivi replied. “Leaving home’s hard and not something you _should_ do because of outrage.” 

Especially since that emotion flashed bright, but could dull just as quickly. 

“But what about fighting back?” Heejin asked. “They wanted us to believe she was evil.” She looked back at her. “Doubting that wasn’t enough. 

“Maybe not.” Vivi paused, wondering how she could express that. “But there’s been more for others to see that she’s not the one to fear.” Even before meeting Hyejoo, Vivi had known that. “And if I’m not mistaken, many still feel ashamed for what was done. That shows they know it wasn’t right.” She made sure not to say the names of Gowon, Chuu or Yves. That was an easy way to ruin the newfound peace with the elf. 

Heejin frowned. “But we’re all too cowardly to admit it.”

“A push’s needed.” Vivi looked around the trees. She spotted pale spirits flitting about. Not ones that would attack them. “And even if it’s a simple one, it could lead to something better.”

“Sounds like it’ll take a long time.” She sighed. Now she only looked exhausted. 

“Relative to eternity, it’s not long at all.” She nudged her arm. “Immortal, remember?”

Again, Heejin smiled, but it was weak. Vivi knew that Hyejoo’s banishment hadn’t happened that long ago. Simple words couldn’t help anything. Action would. If only she knew what that action could be. 

Coming back had been the right decision. She just wished she could find a proper way to help. 

______

Hyunjin was used to the cold. Sometimes she even liked it. She’d once hiked across deserts of ice and enjoyed most of the trip. Even though her fingers had been close to freezing up entirely, she’d liked being warmed only by the light within her. 

Only now she didn’t have that light. The cold didn’t leave her even if she sat right beside the fire. She hated that cold. 

It only really left her if Jungeun surrounded her in flames close enough to colour her skin red. She only warmed if the fire burned. And Jinsoul’d never allow that. 

She just had to be on the clearing by a low cliff, sitting in the glare of the moon, all while drinking litre after litre of moonlight infused water. 

Worst of all, she couldn’t even call on the moonlight. If she tried, her head began to hurt. She didn’t want to push it, but she tried every hour. It hadn’t worked yet. 

“Hungry?” 

Hyunjin looked away from the moon. “A bit.”

Arin sat down beside her. She’d tied her hair up, but now took it down. Hyunjin found herself staring. She was allowed to do that with Arin. 

“When’s the search start?” 

“Today,” she replied. “Mimi wants to go sooner to find the towns earlier, but we’re all tired. Seunghee also got roped into a progress report.”

“Only her?” They usually like the entire group to be there. Balanced reports that way. It never happened with Hyojung’s group, but sometimes the truth was bent. Having the entire group there was the best way to avoid that. People were encouraged to call out an exaggeration or blatant lie. That was one thing Hyunjin appreciated about the Astra. Even if it didn’t always apply. 

Arin’s pink eyes sparkled. They seemed brighter tonight. “They’ll start looking for me in five—ten if we’re lucky.” 

Hyunjin had to smile. It felt good to be the person Arin had snuck away too. When she’d been away from camp, they’d snuck into towns together a lot. Oftentimes, they hadn’t had an idea about the language there. Arin had been charming enough with her gestures that they’d gotten by. Most people had just been intimidated by Hyunjin. 

Remembering that, as well as just smiling, helped soothe the cold. Not as much as fire, but the change was noticeable. 

Arin handed her a glowing bowl. Stew with moonlight. 

“If you’re going out there, it may be best not to use any of this on me.”

Arin raised a brow. “I have a lot of light left.”

Hyunjin believed her. Arin was blinding compared to her. 

“I’ve got a lot to spare.” She handed Hyunjin several pieces of moonlight. “A lot that I don’t need. You do.” 

Hyunjin took them. The moonlight was almost too warm to touch. It chipped away at even more of the cold. 

“Why didn’t you split it with the other two?” Arin asked. 

Hyunjin took the first sip of stew. Warm and delicious. “Those two’ve never held that much.” And she hoped they never would. Darkness like that, especially if it didn’t come from a spirit, stuck more with you. Whatever it carried with it, be it anger or fear, felt more potent—more real. 

“And what about others?” She glanced at the moon. “We were coming back. Anyone else could’ve come with.”

“They’d been there for days,” Hyunjin said. “And one person out of commission—”

“Is better than four people weakened?” Arin frowned. “You’re sure about that?”

Hyunjin nodded. “One risk instead of four.” She drained the bowl. “Those’re better odds nowadays.”

For a long moment, she just looked at her. Hyunjin hoped it wasn’t pity being directed at her. 

“Better odds doesn’t make bearing that burden better.”

Hyunjin chuckled. “You’re right about that.” Another thought crossed her mind. 

Had she not taken all of the darkness upon herself, the spirits wouldn’t have followed them. Bright spirits were braver than the dark ones, but they still avoided a group of Astra. Even so, they’d been drawn to the darkness Hyunjin had taken. They’d _known_ she was weak. And then they’d followed. 

Arin inched closer. She took back the bowl. Then she took her hand, the touch comforting.

“This wasn’t your fault,” Arin said firmly. “You went after them, did what you had to in that house, and then were going back. You didn’t call that spirit over and you didn’t tell her to distract it.” Her deep pink eyes were unwavering, but they didn’t make Hyunjin’s stomach flip. “She saved your lives, but you didn’t put them in danger in the first place. That spirit followed.” 

“End of story?” Hyunjin finished. 

The corners of her lips tugged up. 

Hyunjin watched the movement. The ease with which she could let her eyes wander was a comfort in and of itself. 

Arin’s skin began to glow. A gentle warmth settled over Hyunjin. She also didn’t have to worry others would see. 

“You’re really making yourself great company.”

She smiled. “I’m making sure you’ll want me rushing back.”

Hyunjin patted her hand. “Try harder.” She threw her a wink. 

Arin rolled her eyes tugged at her hand. The warmth from her body made Hyunjin lean into her. She was reminded of nights they’d spent closer. She blushed at those memories. Compared to others, she hadn't been with many people in her life. She'd occasionally visited Hyojung's group to both see them and spend more time with Arin. She cherished the moments where she didn't have to think of how other people saw her. 

“I missed you,” Arin said. 

“Me too,” Hyunjin muttered. 

“You didn’t find a new elf, did you? Or fairy?” A peck to her temple. 

Hyunjin laughed. The close contact seemed like it was helping. 

She looked up, about to say just that when a sweet kiss was pressed to her lips. The cold ache subsided more. 

Immediately, Hyunjin felt a longing rise. It wasn’t that she hadn’t spent time like this with anyone else, she had. But it was different here. 

With her other hand, she pulled Arin closer. 

The first time they’d kissed, Hyunjin had been away from camp for a month. She’d desperately wanted to prove to herself that she could feel something for another. 

It’d taken a year for anything more to happen. Arin had easily sensed that Hyunjin’s mind had been elsewhere. She’d refused to be a “complete substitute”. 

And now, Hyunjin could say that she wasn’t escaping something—someone. Even if she missed those moments from before, she didn’t always think about them. 

Arin hummed. “Five minutes, remember?”

Hyunjin pulled her back. 

“Arin!” a voice called. “Get over here.”

With a chuckle, she broke away. “Told you.”

Hyunjin didn’t know why it was so disappointing. She didn’t feel as cold as before, thankfully, but she wanted more. 

“I’ll see you later.” Arin smiled. 

Her absence was more pronounced than before. Hyunjin’s chest grew heavy with loneliness. 

She knew it was the darkness that emphasised those feelings. She knew it made her feel worse. 

She also knew that the darkness built on things that already existed. 

Hyunjin fought a sigh and turned her attention back to the moon. 

_______

“You know, recovery also comes with rest,” Jinsoul said. She tried not to dwell on Jungeun’s attire for her training. She’d abandoned a shirt completely, having only a band secured around her chest. 

“Should also mean keeping fit,” Jungeun shot back. “Wanna join?” She held up a sword. It was made of metal. 

Jinsoul walked over and took it. The thing was much heavier than moonlight. 

She grimaced. “You’re straining muscles you were barely using before.”

Jungeun laughed. She flexed her arm, further defining the muscles there. “When we patrol, I’m getting you a blade of your own.” 

Jinsoul gave her a look, but her heart warmed at the thought of patrolling again. “I have other defences if I don’t have the light. So do you.”

“This’s another one.” She pulled out the knife strapped to her waist. “Come on.” There was an actual spark in her eyes, one that Jinsoul wanted to keep there. 

And she wanted to say no. She really did. But she couldn’t. Not with that look. 

She hefted the blade swung. It was a terrible feeling, using such a heavy weapon. 

Jungeun ducked. Then she caught hold of Jinsoul’s wrist. The hilt of the dagger was pressed into her stomach. 

“Got you.”

Then they started again. Jungeun kept evading her blows, no matter if she used more of her strength or a different manoeuvre. She stuck to only swings of their blades. She wasn't using any other tactics. It was just something to train Jinsoul using a proper sword. 

When Jinsoul had first gone to see Jungeun’s old clan, they’d been excited to see her and Yerim. Jungeun had gushed about the both of them. In turn, Jungeun’s family and friends had boasted that the Astra would never have a fighter like Jungeun. Her father had, in later visits, told Jinsoul that Jungeun had trained to move with ease, no matter what injury or weight she was carrying. As fast as a flame, he’d said. Pride had emanated from his entire being. 

He’d described her perfectly. 

When Jinsoul took one step, Jungeun had made two. It didn’t matter that Jinsoul had much more light than she did or that her heart was free of darkness. Even if Jungeun was cold and her thoughts were heavy with the past, she could make split-second decisions with ease. 

The only advantage Jinsoul had was how she used that one step. Jungeun usually did something without thinking. It usually worked. 

Until you were able to expect whatever quick move she was making. 

Jinsoul stepped back when Jungeun lunged. She used the flat of the blade to trip her. 

Jungeun stumbled and then fell. She was almost always able to right herself. Not this time. 

Jinsoul dropped the sword and went to her side. Despite the sweat on her brow, Jungeun’s skin was only lukewarm. 

“That’s enough now.” Jinsoul grabbed her own waterskin and handed it to her. “You overdid it.”

She chuckled. “But it was fun.” Her hand found Jinsoul’s. “I missed this.”

That made frowning at Jungeun really difficult. “So did I.”

That was another thing. Jinsoul knew Jungeun wasn’t ready for anything, but so often there were moments where Jungeun became extremely sentimental. Even more than she was. One of her old friends had called her emotionally stunted. Jinsoul preferred calling her slow. And occasionally incredibly withdrawn. 

“See why I’ll make you train with a sword?” She took a long drink. 

“Not yet.” Jinsoul elbowed her. “But after a week of it, maybe.”

Jungeun grinned. There was something off there. Jinsoul couldn't pinpoint what it was. Was the smile too wide? Or did her eyes just not join in enough? 

“Have you,” she glanced at the sword, “needed it?” She knew that Jungeun had had a lot of battles in her life, a lot more than she had, even though Jinsoul was older. She also knew that some of the battles haunted her. 

At the very least, Jungeun slept better now. 

Jungeun shrugged. “Sometimes.” The corner of her lip tugged up. “It doesn’t hurt to be good at it, especially when you’re hiding this.” She waved at the moon. 

“Okay,” Jinsoul squeezed her hand, “but only when you’re better.” She pressed a chunk of moonlight into her hand. “Because you really should be taking it easy.”

Jungeun held her gaze then. “An hour a night?” 

“Half.”

She sighed. “Alright.”

Jinsoul smiled. “That’s it?” Another thing she both loved and found infuriating: Jungeun’s stubbornness was never consistent. 

“Don’t push it. I’ll rebel.”

“And I’ll stop you.”

Jungeun laughed. “You’re the warm one now.” She moved so that her head rested on her shoulder. She was still too cold. 

Jinsoul put an arm around her. “I need you to be a furnace again.”

“I’m not that hot.”

She had to smile. “You are.”

A poke to her side. “But you think it’s great.”

Jinsoul pulled her closer. “I do.”

Silence. They sat like this a lot, especially in winter. Sometimes, Yerim was with them, other times it was just the two of them. They’d either talk or just sit. 

“I’m not complaining, but what happened to your other patients?”

“You’re the last of the night,” Jinsoul said. “And I have tomorrow off.” She didn’t mention that she was planning to go on patrol. It would’ve ruined the moment. A part of her also didn’t want to let go of Jungeun for a while. 

“How’s Yerim?”

“She can drink moonlight water. Her eyes are still really sensitive to it, but that’s it.” In worser cases, people couldn’t even touch it. It could burn them fully. And sometimes the poisoned light spread. 

Jinsoul pushed that from her thoughts. Yerim wasn’t anywhere close to that. 

Jungeun looked up. “She’ll be okay.” Her expression was firm, but Jinsoul knew she was as worried as she was. 

She nodded. She found herself looking at the darkness still in Jungeun’s heart. It hadn’t let go yet. The rest was almost completely gone, but not the one within her. 

“Hey.” Jungeun shifted so that she was kneeling at her side. Jinsoul missed the contact, so she grabbed her hand. “Yerim’s okay. The others’ll get better. You got Soyeon fully cured. And whatever I have’ll be gone soon too.”

“It should’ve been gone by now.” She said that quietly. She never told others if progress was slow. They usually got too worried. And that just made it worse. 

Here, Jungeun didn’t look worried. She just smiled. “This wasn’t the usual type of darkness,” she said softly. “Not from a spirit, but a person. Maybe that just takes a little longer.”

 _And if it doesn’t go away?_ The question was still there: was it dangerous? Or would it just mean that Jinsoul was the one who had to keep Jungeun warm—that Jungeun’s eyes looked more like blood and less like rubies?

“It’ll be okay,” Jungeun said. “I feel better than I did yesterday and I’ll feel even better tomorrow.” A pause. She was hesitating. “And when you came over to spar, I started feeling even better. Not that cold anymore.”

Slowly, so much so that Jinsoul could watch the movement, Jungeun lifted her hand to Jinsoul’s face. Her thumb brushed across her forehead, going to the space between her eyebrows. It rested just above her scar. 

“You keep frowning at me,” Jungeun muttered. 

“I’m worried about you,” Jinsoul admitted. 

She shook her head. “You don’t have to.”

She was about to retort, but she was pulled into the other’s arms before she could reply. 

“It’ll be okay.” A small pause. “I know this might not mean much, but neither Yerim or Jiwoo are all that scared for me. And even if I didn’t know that, I’d still be saying I’ll be okay.”

Jungeun shifted again. Now she was sitting, while Jinsoul was half in her arms, half lying on the ground. It was surprisingly comfortable. 

“Do you believe me?” Jungeun asked. She tilted her head and Jinsoul saw a familiar, yet rare vulnerability. Jungeun wanted Jinsoul to have faith in her. To trust her. She did, but that wasn’t what mattered here. Jinsoul couldn’t lie to Jungeun. 

And she wouldn’t. “I want to,” she said. “But we don’t know, not the seers, not you, and not me. It’s nothing we’ve ever seen before.”

“But you can’t act like you _know_ it’ll get worse,” Jungeun muttered. 

“I’m not,” Jinsoul said. “And you can’t tell me you’re completely sure you’ll be okay. I want you to be okay, of course I do, but I’m not sure you will be.” _And I can’t risk that_. 

Another soft smile. It was a new sight, but Jinsoul liked seeing it. “You’re right. No one knows, but that doesn’t mean we can’t hope for the best.”

“It’s not that.” Jinsoul sat up. “But us _not knowing_ doesn’t make me feel that confident.”

Jungeun just nodded. After a few seconds, she said, “you’re doing all you can, you know.” She took her hand again. “And all we can do is wait and see how it goes.”

Jinsoul called on the light. She let it warm her skin before sending a fair amount to Jungeun. 

She frowned and started to pull away. 

Jinsoul just held her hand tighter. “I have the day off, remember?” _And you’re still cold_. 

Her brow was still furrowed. 

So Jinsoul smoothed it out. 

Jungeun dropped her eyes then. She was looking at the ground. 

Jinsoul wished she’d bring them back up. Neither of them were leaning away, but they weren’t doing anything else either. Jinsoul wished one of them would. 

Was it unfair that she wanted Jungeun to do something? Selfish? Or was it both?

Jungeun leaned back then, a tiny sigh leaving her. “Should we go give Yerim dinner?”

“I told Yeojin to do it.” 

She raised a brow. “Do they get along now?”

“Not sure.” Jinsoul shrugged. “But she hasn’t gone to her once. It’s about time they talk.”

Jungeun smirked. “I feel like you have a plan.”

She winked. “We’ll find out.” She knew Yerim had nothing against her, but also that Yeojin had somehow developed some sort of grudge. She had no idea why. 

“So it’s just us.” Jungeun got to her feet. She stepped away, but didn’t let go of Jinsoul’s hand. At least there was that. 

“Just us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit more of a 'casual chapter' this time. Heejin and Vivi are finally talking, for one thing, which I've been eager to get to.
> 
> And then there's a bit more of Hyunjin's story. I wouldn't say she's moved on, but life certainly went a different direction for her after she found out about the bond. I don't think either character would call it an actual relationship, but it's something. 
> 
> Finally, there's Jungeun and Jinsoul. The best way I can describe them is that they're extremely close, but have some unanswered questions. 
> 
> Regardless, I hope you're all doing well. I'm in the middle of studying and this story has been my only break from that. Thank you all for keeping up with this story. As always, if you have any thoughts about the story, be they about the relationships, the plot, or otherwise, I'd love to read them! 


	22. My fault

Fifty Years Ago

_Olivia stared up at the grey sky. The clouds weren’t clearing. It would rain soon._

_So much of her hurt. There was a numbness to her body, one that made her doubtful she’d be able to move soon. The base of the bars dug into her back, its effect on her skin only prevented through her clothes. The restraints around her legs and arms were still there, still digging into her skin, still burning her._

_They’d decided to banish her. All but seven had said she had no place with them. She was lucky they hadn’t voted to kill her._

_But perhaps that was still their intent. If not by their own hand, then by that of the spirits in the forest. Their homes were always surrounded by benevolent spirits. They were attracted to those associated with the moonlight, while the malevolent strayed away. And now the benevolent would attack her. What was undeniably good in the world wanted her dead._

_And they would likely succeed. She was still bleeding from her wounds, a terrible black blood that no longer smelled metallic to her, but somehow sweet and dark at the same time. She could hardly pinpoint it, but it twisted her stomach._

_Although it hurt even more, Olivia turned her head. She saw how they had returned to business. People were either in their tents, likely sleeping until the first part of the night came, or they were around a fire, talking. Somehow, it was worse than seeing how they had stood around her, watching as she’d bled._

_She was on the edge of the camp. They didn’t assume she could escape, only that she was safely barred away from them. She wanted nothing more than to prove them wrong._

_She kept watching the people who were her family. Did they still count as such? If she was an exile, then that wasn’t the case. Jinsoul, Jungeun and Choerry were considered family, but they hadn’t been born into the Astra. Olivia had been. And now they’d thrown her away._

_Olivia looked to the ground. It was darker around her, despite the cage. She saw the shadows. How often had she been told what to try with the moonlight? How often had it never worked?_

_She would still have time until the moon reached its height. Perhaps she would find a way how to escape._

_A part of her doubted whether or not they would truly set her free. A part of her wondered if they would kill her. If she was considered such a danger, then it would be wiser to have her killed._

_Out of all the things that had been thrown out of certainty, she could still cling to one thing: she didn't want to die._

_Olivia called to the shadow as though it were a friend._

_I need help, she thought, reaching for it with her mind as they’d been taught._

_She couldn't believe her eyes when the shadows wandered over to her. It must have been a trick of the light. Perhaps the moon had grown aware of her intentions. Perhaps it was letting its light dance around in ways to toy with her._

_Or she was actually controlling the shadows._

_She let them pool beneath her, joining her existing shadow. It felt as though water were underneath her, soaking into her torn clothes, cooling the skin that had been burned by the light._

_Looking down at her feet, she forced the larger shadow to shift towards her bound ankles. The pain in her back and arms returned, but that in her legs faded. She pulled on the shadow, trying to get it to move up the bindings of light. It felt like she was trying to pick something up that was much heavier than her._

_Bit by bit, the restraints darkened. She realised she only needed to coat the base of the restraints enough. There was a low crackling noise, as though the light were being scraped at by shadow. No, the shadows were destroying it._

_Olivia tested the strength, wincing as the restraints burned untouched skin. The light gave way and with a small crack, she'd freed her legs._

_She turned to be fully on her back, feigning exhaustion for anyone who might have been watching. She realised that was unnecessary. There had to be at least a hint of shame within them. Enough so that they wouldn't look at her. They wouldn’t want to see her bloodied state. It would remind them that they'd hurt her. And however justified they felt her banishment was, even she couldn't deny that the Astra had some good in them. It just hadn't been enough._

_The shadow creeped towards her arms, soothing the skin again. She brought it up again, unable to know its progress this time. She pulled continuously on the restraints, biting back a cry as the skin broke. Was that sound her blood sizzling?_

_Then the tension broke. The chains of light fell. Her arms were free, but she held them together still, just as she did her legs. From afar, she’d still be trapped._

_With those two bursts of success, Olivia felt drained. She wanted to close her eyes. But if someone found her as she did, they’d easily bind her again. Whatever she’d done—absorb, destroy, or ward away the light—it would only encourage them to kill her._

_Now she needed to create a weak point in the cage. The base would be what she could manage. Then she’d get it off of her and run. If enough had gone to their tents, perhaps she could take some food with her._

_No. Haseul had deliberately given her food without moonlight. All that she could find in the camp would have moonlight. It would only worsen what she faced now. And to take away the light in the food would be a waste of her energy._

_Olivia closed her eyes, wondering if the darkness behind her lids would have any help. It had always soothed her, but was that only because she’d always had an affinity for the darkness?_

_Nothing she’d solve now._

_She hoped her strength would remain. She called on the shadow from the tree closest to her. It came._

_She forced it to the bars just by her feet, leaving some room so that the cage wouldn’t cut her when she left it. There would be a greater distance for it to rise, but she’d be able to push against it. She’d also have to crawl out._

_The cracking noise was louder now. The bars were strong. She hoped no one would rouse and come to see it. She wasn’t strong enough for a fight. She was barely prepared to run. She didn’t know where she’d go. But there was little reason for her to stay._

_She shifted down so that her feet were on the place where she intended to break the bars. One small push had a segment crumble._

_Rain began to fall. Some fell on her face. While more would retreat, she knew of one who’d emerge. Would she come as well? Did Olivia want her to? She’d believed Gowon would come, but she hadn’t. And she hadn’t stopped there. What if the same was the case for Jinsoul?_

_Olivia pushed harder, keeping an eye on the elves still outside. They didn’t look her way once. Their conflicts about today would serve her well._

_More of the cage fell away. Olivia looked down. It still wasn’t large enough._

_The rain fell harder now._

_She pushed the shadows to rise further. They were weakening. The clouds had darkened. Would it storm today as well?_

_That gave her pause. She was relying on what the light could provide: shadow. What about what was always there when the light did not come? She’d been named a darkness-wielder. Could she?_

_Olivia looked to the forest that seemed to end a small ways away. The branches and leaves were laid so densely that little light ever came through. That was unwanted by the Astra, but what about her?_

_I need you, Olivia thought, calling on the space absent of the most light. It had to work. Shadows responded to her with some resistance._

_Then she felt it. The cold that set itself deep into her heart. It hurt, but not as much as the light cutting into her skin did. She pulled. The shadows surged towards her._

_In the next moment, they had encased the cage. The light vanished. Then the darkness flowed into Olivia’s skin, cooling her further. The burning had vanished, but the pain still remained. Naturally, the darkness did not heal._

_Olivia wanted nothing more than to enjoy her freedom, but she was still in the camp._

_She rushed towards a tree whose shadow she hadn’t taken. This was the reason why she’d found it easy to hide as a child. This was the reason why she’d been exceptional at surprise assaults during hunts. She hoped it would prevail now when it came to hiding from her people._

_Not your people, Olivia thought._

_For a moment, a very dark thought crossed her mind. She was no longer one of them. They had chosen to banish her. They viewed her as a monster already._

_So what if she proved them right? She could send the darkness onto them, charging at them as those spirits had her. She could make them afraid. She could hurt them as they had her._

_Olivia found the darkness within her very easily. It didn’t feel foreign to her, but normal. Cold, but familiar. Could she make it into a blade? She wondered how it would feel. Light burned her. What would the darkness do?_

_No. Trying that would exhaust her further. She needed to save her strength._

_And not all of them had wanted her gone. Seven people made up a fraction of their family, but there were seven nonetheless. And most hadn’t voted to have her executed. She hadn't looked who else had voted for death, but she had seen the votes of three. Those three had wanted her gone, but not dead._

_Olivia clenched her fists. She wanted revenge. The darkness within her seemed to excite at the thought. It curled beneath her skin. She could feel it. She almost saw how it wrapped around three throats, slowly tightening._

_She flexed her hands and shook her head. That was why she needed to turn away. If she went back, she'd get what she wanted, but she'd also die in the process._

_And she wanted to live._

_But what would happen when she learned more about the darkness? Would she come back then? Or would she remain as far away as she could? She didn’t know._

_Instead of walking further into the camp, Olivia turned. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw a pale-haired figure emerge from their tent. She didn’t spare them another thought._

_The darkness in her blood had strengthened her as she’d always wished the light would. Now it would take her further from the light than she’d ever been._

_She ran._

_The forest was silent. If someone had seen her, they hadn’t raised the alarm. She was free._

________

_Gowon couldn’t look away. The white bars held jagged veins of black. The grass had turned ash grey. The bark of the trees had turned black. The air smelled of rot and snow._

_“This is what her magic can do,” Freya said softly. Everyone could still hear it. “It destroys our light and rots what life it touches.” She looked at Gowon then, her golden eyes kind._

_She looked away. What had happened here, it hadn’t been to destroy or cause decay. It’d been to escape. To escape from a prison that Gowon had helped send her to._

_“Send out groups of seven,” said Yuol. “Have them branch off of where the trail ends.”_

_People dispersed. Some looked eager._

_Gowon felt sick watching it. Then her stomach twisted further. How was she any better? What did what she felt now matter?_

_When Hyejoo had turned, something in Gowon’s chest had snapped. She’d felt it shatter. She hadn’t even been able to scream. She’d just collapsed. Her head had begun to hurt soon after._

_Memories had flooded her mind. Memories of a spirit who’d killed an elf where he’d stood, mauling him with intangible claws, tainting his skin with a dark grey light. Memories of the fairies who’d taken her parents from her, filling their eyes with red, as anger overcame them. They hadn't stopped screaming. Not until others had ended their suffering._

_Their screams filled her ears once again. Gowon had pressed her hands to her ears, but the sounds had only gotten louder. And one of her hands had been freezing cold._

_She didn’t know how long she’d been trapped in the past. She didn’t know why the pain hadn’t subsided, only that it’d come from Hyejoo._

_And then it had all cleared. The memories had faded completely, though the sounds had still rung faintly in her ears._

_She’d been bathed in light, one threaded with lavender. Eline._

_“It’s alright,” the seer had murmured. Warm arms had encircled Gowon. They’d almost been too warm, but Gowon had still leaned into the touch. “You’re safe now.”_

_The words had been exactly what she’d wanted to hear then. Thinking on them now, Gowon wondered why she’d said she was safe. The memories hadn’t been a danger. They’d only hurt._

_Gowon wanted to drown in those memories now. They’d been things out of control. She hadn’t caused that pain. It’d been forced onto her._

_This was her fault. She’d raised her hand. She’d stayed silent when she should’ve roared out her protest. She should’ve broken those white bars._

_Gowon turned away from the broken cage. She was met with furious pink eyes. “You even think about looking for her,” Heejin whispered, her voice trembling with fury. “I’ll—” She was pulled back._

_Hyunjin stood at her side, a silent plea in her eyes. Her hand gripped Heejin’s, the skin glowing gently._

_Gowon just stepped back. She didn't look away from Heejin. She forced herself to meet the eyes of someone who hated her._

_Someone else took her hand then._

_“We’re not going anywhere,” Jiwoo said. There was no brightness in her voice, nor warmth in her eyes. The others would think she was being callous. It was far from the truth. So far._

_Jiwoo had been with Eline, as had Sooyoung. They’d held her while she’d told Eline what’d happened. They’d comforted her as Eline had told her what Hyejoo had become. She'd told them that whatever parts of Hyejoo that were still good would fade with time. That the darkness would fester within her mind, within her soul._

_She’d told them that Hyejoo’s path was only dark. That it would only bring darkness: fear, hatred, and death._

_Even if that was right, Gowon should've never believed it. Even if she had believed it, she should’ve fought for Hyejoo. She should’ve defended her._

_She’d done none of those things. It was her fault that Hyejoo had been put behind bars. It was Gowon’s fault that she’d been burned by those restraints. It was her fault that she’d been hurt by those spirits. And it was her fault that Hyejoo was gone._

_Something tore within her chest. She fought a cry and covered her mouth to stifle it._

_Someone’s hand reached for hers. “It’s okay.”_

_Gowon shoved them away. “No, it’s not.” She didn’t look at Sooyoung and kept walking. The pain was still there, but it wasn’t getting worse. She almost wished it would. She deserved it._

_Sooyoung didn’t leave her side. Gowon was grateful that she was there, but she didn’t want to say a word about what was happening._

_She went to their tent. When she saw the fourth bedroll, her legs gave out._

_Sooyoung caught her. Gowon didn’t push her away._

_A cry left her._

_Another set of arms joined._

_Jiwoo murmured reassurances as she sobbed._

_Sooyoung’s skin was warm. She was summoning light. It seeped into Gowon’s own skin, warming her._

_“No one can hear,” Sooyoung said. Her voice was shaky. “You can even scream if you wanted to.”_

_Gowon didn’t reply. She just leaned her head onto someone’s shoulder. The tears didn’t stop. Nor did the trembling._

_And the only thing she saw was Hyejoo, bloodied and pleading. She heard her screams when the spirits had attacked her._

_“It’s my fault.”_

_“It’s mine,” Sooyoung muttered. “I didn’t realise what we were doing, I—”_

_“It was the three of us,” Jiwoo cut her off. She pulled away, making the two of them look at her. Her gaze was teary, but unyielding. “It wasn’t one or the other, but it was the three of us. I could’ve said something, Sooyoung could’ve said something, but we didn’t.” She took Gowon’s hand in hers. “But it wasn’t just you.” She blinked once. “It was me too.”_

_The three of them sat there for a long time. Long enough for Gowon’s body to grow heavy, but not long enough for the pain to fade. She felt how Sooyoung had also started to sag. After what felt like hours, Jiwoo was the one to pull away again._

_“I’ll bring something to eat,” she said. “Then I think it’s time to go sleep.” She gave the both of them a very weak smile._

_Even then, Gowon knew it was genuine. Jiwoo was trying for them in the best way she knew._

_Once she was gone, that left Sooyoung and Gowon._

_And a fourth bedroll. Beside it lay two swords in leather scabbards._

_Gowon felt a part of her break. It wasn’t even a part of the pain she was already feeling._

_Sooyoung had seen where she was looking._

_“I’ll get rid of it.” She let go of Gowon and went over. She started rolling up the bedroll. Her movements weren’t fluid, not like how they always were. Her shoulders were stiff and she fumbled with the furs. Her hands were shaking._

_Gowon watched as she reached for the swords._

_She snatched them back. The leather was soft beneath her touch. The blades were heavy in her hands. She held them close to her chest._

_Sooyoung looked up, her eyes full of pain, but slowly filling with confusion. “We can try selling those.”_

_Gowon couldn’t speak. She just shook her head._

_“Don’t tell me you’re keeping them.” Sooyoung’s grip on Hyejoo’s bedroll tightened._

_The cold hilt of one sword pressed into her shoulder. It was uncomfortable, but Gowon didn’t adjust her hold on it._

_Hyejoo had trained with these blades. She’d sparred with Gowon with them. She’d taken on spirits with them. Gowon had been with her almost every time she’d used them._

_“I’ll do it,” she got out. “I’ll take them to town tomorrow.”_

_Sooyoung looked at her for a moment too long. Then she relaxed._

_“I’ll be right back.”_

_Sooyoung left the tent. Gowon sat there with bedrolls and two swords. Alone._

_She blinked and no tears fell. Her eyes ached. Her chest still felt as if it’d been cleaved in two. Her stomach had twisted itself twice over._

_Gowon went to her bed. She tucked the swords underneath the first fur, before settling beneath them. She could’ve cleaned her teeth. She could’ve changed. She was still wearing what she’d worn when the darkness had come to Hyejoo. When she’d lost her._

_When you gave her up, Gowon corrected._

_Jiwoo came back before Sooyoung did. She set down a steaming bowl of soup in Gowon’s lap and gently forced her to eat. While Sooyoung was technically the authority, Gowon had found herself listening more to Jiwoo than she did the former. If the bright smile fell away, one paid even more attention to the peach-eyed elf. That smile was there even if Jiwoo got hurt. It only ever fell away if she was in agony or when things were well past her own limits. Gowon knew this was a time of all those things._

_And yet Jiwoo still looked at her with warmth in her eyes. She even held a cup of tea to Gowon’s lips, one where the temperature didn’t burn, but still warmed._

_Had Gowon had any energy left, she would’ve pulled Jiwoo into a tight embrace._

_But the moment the bowl was empty, the moment Jiwoo turned to check if Sooyoung was eating, Gowon fell back to the furs. She reached for the hilts of Hyejoo’s swords. They’d grown warmer._

_And when Gowon closed her eyes, she saw Hyejoo right before the darkness came. She saw her wide eyes looking up at her, telling her to go. She hadn’t wanted Gowon to have any part of what was happening to her. She’d known it was coming. And she’d wanted to protect her._

_But what had Gowon done in return?_

_Her eyes grew heavy. She grew cold again, despite how Jiwoo and Sooyoung were keeping the tent warm with sigils and moonlight. The memories returned._

_Except this time, she heard only one person screaming. There was only one loved one she watched get hurt._

________

_Gowon woke to something being wound around her hands. She gasped. Her legs were already bound. Her eyes were covered. On her tongue was a gently sweet taste. When she swallowed, it became nauseating. Something from Choerry's many mixtures._

_She tried to move away, but someone held her down._

_There was a similar struggle happening beside her. Jiwoo. And if the muffled cursing was anything to go on, Sooyoung was also there._

_“Here,” something was stuffed into her mouth, “something so you don’t call too much attention to us.”_

_She recognised that voice, but it was filled with an unfamiliar venom. Haseul._

_“Got them,” another said. Jungeun. What was she doing here as well?_

_Gowon was hauled to her feet. Both her ankles and wrists were bound. In a very familiar fashion._

_She saw a bloodied figure in her mind, one with dark eyes and hair, smoking, their blood black._

_The people carrying them started running, Gowon’s feet dragged across the floor. The restraints had been tied around her tightly. She only heard the quick breathing of the person carrying her, Haseul. And the occasional hisses and curses from Sooyoung. Jiwoo was silent._

_After what seemed like ages of running, the cloth in Gowon’s mouth was ripped out. Then that around her eyes was taken away. Haseul let go of her and Gowon crashed to the ground. She was pulled up to be on her knees._

_Beside Haseul was Jungeun, as well as Heejin, whose pink eyes blazed with a terrible fury._

_“What do you think you’re doing?” Sooyoung spat. “You’re going to—”_

_“What?” Haseul glowed harshly in the darkness. “Be bound by what hurts me most, dangled as bait for a beast, and then banished?” She spread her hands. “Go on, tell them it was me. At least I got what I wanted.”_

_“Which is?” Jiwoo asked softly._

_A long white staff appeared in Heejin’s hands. She swung. It cracked against Sooyoung's arm. She hissed. She swung it two more times. Gowon flinched away, her shoulder stinging. The ropes around her wrists rubbed against the skin._

_“So what happened?” Jungeun knelt in front of her. Her red eyes bored into Gowon’s. “She comes to you, terrified of what’s happening to her, and you go straight to Freya?” She tilted her head. The air around Gowon grew hot. “Did you knock her out and tell them where you left her? Did you bind her in moonlight and see how it hurt her?”_

_Her skin began to burn. “The darkness overcame her." Gowon closed her eyes. “She ran off, taking all the light around her.” She remembered wanting to hold her, but not daring to. She’d run instead. "But then it got me. I didn't go after her. Eline found me."_

_A hand gripped her chin. Their grip was painful. “Look at me.”_

_Gowon opened her eyes, seeing bright pink eyes instead of red._

_“Did you know what would happen? Did you know they’d treat her like a monster?” Heejin asked. “It would’ve been easy to keep her hidden. She would've had a chance to be on her way, unharmed.” She narrowed her eyes. “Did you know?”_

_“Leave her alone," Sooyoung snapped. “She was claimed by the darkness. Helping her would've been dangerous.”_

_“Dangerous to you!” Haseul snapped. “That was the reason, wasn’t it? You didn’t want to be marked as sympathetic to her. You knew she’d be condemned and you wanted to preserve your image, correct?”_

_“You saw exactly what we did,” the other replied. “She corrupted a spirit. Her blood is black.”_

_Gowon didn't know why she was saying this. Sooyoung didn't believe Hyejoo was evil. Was she provoking them?_

_“And I’m more likely to hurt you than she is.” Haseul’s staff sharpened at the tip. “She could've taken her revenge on the ones who wronged her. When she escaped, she had exactly that opportunity.”_

_“She was injured,” Sooyoung shot back. “She wouldn’t have gotten far with that.”_

_“Or,” Jungeun started, “if you’re right about her corrupting other spirits, she could've sent them on you. I don’t think that requires a lot of control, only anger.” Her red eyes glittered._

_“So what will you do now?” Jiwoo asked. “Do what you think she should’ve done?” The words were accusatory, but Gowon only saw the tears in the other’s eyes._

_“I just want you to feel a sliver of what she did,” Haseul said. “Where the people you loved turned against you and where no one defended you when you were in danger.” She went around each of them. When she got to Gowon, she tightened the restraints. “I don’t expect you to be sorry. You're going to stand by whatever decision you made,” she said in her ear. “Because if you turn around and plead with me, telling me you didn’t mean what you did, I'm not going to listen.”_

_Gowon shuddered. Haseul had always been so warm, so supportive._

_“You can’t leave us here,” Sooyoung said. “If taking us here was going to get you punished, this will get you killed.”_

_Heejin shoved her. Her anger had caused her to glow. The light curled from her skin. “Then you’re facing the same thing Hyejoo is at this exact moment.”_

_“You’re lucky we haven’t added bait.” Jungeun’s eyes were cold._

_The three girls left._

_“They can’t do this,” Sooyoung was shifting, “we’re too exposed.”_

_Gowon tried to summon what little light she could. It was extremely difficult. Only a few flakes fell away from her._

_This was the cost of what they’d done. Of what she’d done._

_“They have,” Jiwoo said softly. “You saw the look in their eyes.”_

_“Immediate anger,” Sooyoung shot back. She lost her balance, her hands still struggling to free themselves from the restraints. “They’ll live with this for the rest of their lives.”_

_Just as they would have to if they survived. Gowon didn’t believe the three would let them die. The most that would happen is that each of them would be struck by a malevolent spirit. None of them had the cruelty to do such a thing, but they had the anger to leave them in the first place._

_But the spirits would come. They were all angry and the three of them were afraid. The moon was hidden by clouds, so little light would reach them. It was the perfect time to attack._

________

_Jungeun watched how Haseul’s eyes never left the three elves. There was a mixture of anger and guilt in her eyes. She wished she could tell her that this was well deserved. That she didn’t have to feel guilty for it._

_They were going to step in the moment a spirit appeared, leaving just enough time so that the three would know the fear of being defenceless. Then they would defend them._

_She knew that Heejin had been tempted to leave them there overnight, but even she was not filled with that much hatred. And as angry as Jungeun was, she'd never wouldn't leave them here either._

_She'd watched Hyejoo escape her cage. She'd nearly gone after her. She still wished she had. Then Hyejoo wouldn't still be out there, alone and weakened._

_Two people had held her back. Yerim hadn't been responsive since Hyejoo's banishment, while Jinsoul hadn't left her side. Yerim had always felt completely at home in Jinsoul's embrace. She told Jungeun that the same applied to her, but she had a hard time believing that._

_Jungeun pushed the thought of them out of her head. She focused on the three they'd brought out here._

_She'd seen remorse in their eyes, but there’d been different reactions. Yves had been defensive, her anger overshadowing her guilt. Chuu had been sobered by it, while Gowon had sunken into herself._

_She was confident they wouldn't tell, but she had to be prepared to face whatever would come back to them. Blood hadn’t been spilled, but they had still brought elves into danger._

_That was why no other knew what they’d planned to do. Hyunjin would have no knowledge, nor the two youngest of their clan. Jinsoul was also oblivious. Jungeun knew she was furious, but she wondered if that anger would have led her to do something like this. It would Jungeun._

_They heard Yves’ curses and her struggle to get free. Haseul and Heejin had worked on strengthening what little rope they had, while Jungeun had tied the knot._

_Panic was starting to enter Yves' voice. A voice in the back of Jungeun's mind told her it was for Gowon and Chuu. Yves wanted to keep them safe. And she couldn't._

_“They’re coming,” Heejin murmured._

_Haseul nodded and dropped down. In her hands, two daggers of light grew. Jungeun made a longer blade herself and was ready to summon fire with the other hand._

_Heejin didn’t summon anything. Would she fight with them?_

_Together, they watched as a dark snake emerged from the trees, its eyes were a fiery orange. Beside it was another scaly-being, not one that Jungeun recognised. Two at once?_

_The movements of the three became more desperate. Yves started to glow brighter. She’d moved in front of Chuu and Gowon. She'd take the first blows._

_From behind, another spirit pair appeared, one in the form of a spider, the other a fox. Four now. It shouldn’t have been. They would've sensed the presence of Jungeun and the other two. This was wrong._

_Gowon screamed, her skin glowing erratically. Her voice was filled with terror._

_Haseul let the first dagger fly. It struck the snake in the head. It contracted wildly, a pale green spreading around its body, but only slowly._

_Jungeun ran for the other two spirits. The fox had reached Gowon. She threw fire at it. The orange mixed with white stream flew through the air, curling around the spirit. It let out a sharp shriek._

_There was a metallic hiss behind her. Jungeun turned to see Heejin’s spear deep into the torso of the spider. It turned white._

_Jungeun turned back to the fox that was twisting, trying to escape the flames she’d set around it. Below it, the grass had been charred._

_She raised her sword and sank it into its heart. She took back the flames. The fox turned from black to pale yellow. The weapon dissolved._

_When she looked at Haseul, she saw her wrestling with the other beast. One blade had hit its flank and as it dissolved, the leg turned a soft red. It was still trying to kill her._

_Jungeun leapt over Chuu and Yves and was only able to summon a shard of moonlight. She had expended the rest. She shoved it into its eye. It snarled and thrust its body around. Jungeun as nearly crushed. Her foot twisted oddly underneath her. She cried out in pain. Being so close to it, she could feel the rage seeping out of it. It was drawing on her own. It ached._

_Yves’ voice rose above the rest. “Take it!”_

_A large coil of white landed beside Jungeun. She grabbed it, letting it reform into something she could wield. She drove it into the head. She felt the light stream into the spirit. The pale red spread all throughout it. Then it moved away. Below it, Jungeun saw Haseul, blood red smoke streamed from her shoulder. Each breath was a gasp._

_Heejin was beside her in a second, eyes wide._

_“Be still.” Her hand pressed to the wound. The glow of her skin subsided._

_Haseul sighed. The red smoke did not cease._

_Jungeun got to her feet, her ankle hardly able to sustain her. She hopped over to where the three elves still lay. All were unharmed._

_She untied their restraints. None of them attacked her._

_Chuu scrambled to Haseul. “I have more, let me.”_

_“No,” Haseul said. “We have to get back. If more come, you need to defend us.”_

_Heejin came up beside Jungeun and wrapped an arm around her waist. “Give us some light?”_

_She nodded and let flames rise from her hand. Where the spirit had touched her, her skin stung. What had it felt like for Olivia? How much had it burned? The more pain Jungeun felt, the more terrible she felt for not defending Olivia that day._

_The six of them walked on, divided by the actions of late and their thoughts. Haseul clung to Heejin’s other side, shivering. Her eyes lacked their glow._

_No spirit attacked them. The anger of all of them had subsided. And they weren’t afraid enough. Their group was too large as well._

_“Here,” Chuu said. “Take it.” She closed the distance between the two trios. Her hand went to Haseul’s shoulder and the glow of Chuu's skin vanished._

_Haseul breathing eased and more colour appeared in her face. She looked up at Chuu, her eyes wary, but not unkind._

_“You don’t want to thank me,” Chuu said. “So don’t.” Then she went back._

_Gowon was in between them. She had a haunted look in her eyes. She still glowed softly._

_What would be in store for them now? People would notice that they were hurt. They would ask._

_This was where the other three had the chance to get back at them. They would tell the elders of what they’d done. The three of them would be punished. And Jungeun wasn’t naive enough to think her penalty would be the same as the other two. She was glad Jinsoul and Choerry knew nothing. She was glad they hadn’t come._

_“You’ll say it was my idea,” Haseul murmured. It was barely audible._

_Jungeun started to protest._

_“And mine,” Heejin said. “Not yours.” Her pink eyes met Jungeun’s. “You’re not taking any fall.”_

_Jungeun shook her head. “A lie will do me no good.”_

_They walked on in silence. She knew the other two would try to push her away from this, but she’d wanted to do this as much as they had. Because it hadn’t been right. She felt that what they had done was. Perhaps that made her worse for thinking such a thing, but she had to acknowledge that. Consequences be damned._

________

_Those at the periphery saw them first. They took one look at Haseul and scrambled to action. It was incredible what care they would give to those who were one of them. Once that belonging was taken away, the care fell away just as quickly._

_A healer and an elder came over to them._

_“What happened, girl?” Saevel regarded her sternly. “And how did you all sneak away?”_

_Warmth flowed into her shoulder. The healer, Nuala, gave her a mix of moonlight and wine to drink. Haseul did. It warmed her far more than Chuu’s light had._

_The pain still lingered. It wasn’t the first time that Haseul had been struck by a spirit, but it was the first time she’d been conscious of how wrong it felt to be caught by one’s teeth. Her entire body seemed to reject it. She became aware of her blood and how it grew heavy in her veins. She became aware of how negative thoughts and feelings became prevalent, how her anger towards the other three had strengthened, despite having been saved by one of them._

_And now that anger had faded._

_“We wanted to find spirits,” Yves said. “After what happened, we thought there’d be a disruption in the forest after that.” Her eyes were earnest as she spoke. An exceptional act._

_But why was she lying for them?_

_“I—” Haseul began, but Heejin’s arm around her waist tightened._

_“Four found us,” Chuu said._

_“Found you?” Saevel repeated._

_“They were bold,” she said. “And more light was needed to bring them down.”_

_That was true. Even if they had left the girls to be found, they hadn’t expected so many to come, nor to be so difficult to purify._

_“It is good not more of you were hurt,” Nuala smiled at Haseul, “you were brave to go out as you did, but still foolish.” Then she moved to Jungeun. “And you were clumsy.”_

_Jungeun looked down at the floor. To others, it would have looked sheepish. Haseul knew the girl was as confused as she was. “Yes, you could say that.”_

_“If you do it again,” Saevel crossed his arms, “do it in a larger group. And when the moon is in the sky.” He smiled slightly. “But I’m glad you’re all taking the initiative for that.” With that, he was walking off._

_“We should this bound.” Nuala took Jungeun’s arm._

_“No need, Era Nuala,” Jungeun replied. “I need practice doing it myself.” She limped away before the healer could respond._

_Nuala looked after her. “A stubborn one, isn’t she?” She frowned. “She never comes with an injury.” Then, murmuring something about needing to pass on a message about how people treated their injuries, she walked off. That left Haseul and Heejin with the other three._

_Gowon still looked as though she’d seen something horrific. Haseul wanted to ask what that had been, to reach out to her, but she didn’t. Though her anger had faded, she would not forget what these three had done, and not done. She never would_

_Neither Yves nor Chuu said a word, they only walked away, Gowon in the centre. The two girls had wrapped their arms tightly around her._

_“Will they just tell them later?” Heejin asked quietly._

_The thought had crossed Haseul’s mind, but she’d seen it for herself. “They won’t.”_

_But none of them would forget what had happened tonight. Haseul wouldn’t forget that Yves and Chuu had given up their moonlight for her. She wouldn’t forget that they’d lied for them. She wouldn’t forget Gowon’s scream and how shaken she looked after._

_But they also wouldn’t forget that Haseul had left them as bait for spirits._

_And Haseul would never forget how they'd abandoned Hyejoo._

________

_Hyunjin looked up when the entrance to the tent opened. Jungeun wasn’t there, neither was Yerim. Only Jinsoul was and she’d not been sleeping well either._

_Heejin appeared. Her eyes were swollen and red._

_Hyunjin sat up, a small burst of panic taking hold. “What’re you doing here?”_

_Jinsoul didn’t stir, but she could’ve been coming to. And then she’d see Heejin here. Hyunjin knew that she wouldn’t tell anyone, but that wasn’t the point._

_“I,” she trailed off. “I needed to see you.”_

_Hyunjin nearly told her that she could see her tomorrow just as easily. She’d recently started to realise how little time really mattered when it came to Heejin. She’d realised that the time she’d spent away hadn’t changed anything for her. She’d hoped that Heejin felt differently._

_Then again, she hadn’t been around her long enough to know if that was the case. Ignoring Heejin had been difficult, but not impossible._

_Except for today. She’d had to stamp out all hesitations she’d had, because Heejin needed someone there for her. Priad was for Hyejoo’s banishment. Hyunjin still didn’t understand why he’d shown his position. He should’ve known that Heejin would never turn away from someone she loved._

_“Please, Hyun,” Heejin said. Her eyes were glassy and three tears were already finding their way down her face._

_Hyunjin’s stomach twisted at the sight._

_Today was the exception. She told herself that as she nodded. Today, she couldn’t turn Heejin away. After today, someone else would take the role she was taking up. Someone else would take care of Heejin. But for today, that someone would be Hyunjin._

_She pushed away the fur of her bedroll and shifted to the side._

_The tiny smile that got her was painful to see. This was all Heejin had wanted. And Hyunjin had almost made her leave._

_Heejin laid down, facing Hyunjin. She blinked once and more tears fell._

_Before she could wipe them away, Hyunjin did it for her. They hadn’t been this close in a long time, but that didn’t make the touch strange. It just felt natural. And Hyunjin’s heart plummeted at the realisation._

_She tried to ignore how Heejin leaned into her hand. She tried to ignore the tenderness in Heejin’s eyes._

_She didn’t take her hand away._

_“Did we let this happen?” Heejin asked._

_Hyunjin shook her head. “There weren’t enough who wanted her to stay,” she said. “We couldn’t have done anything more.”_

_And if they had tried something more, all of them would’ve been pushed to the edge of the Astra. Yeojin might’ve ended up like Hyunjin, with a role they needed, but didn’t value. Jinsoul, Jungeun, and Yerim would’ve fallen even further out of favour, despite having proven themselves. Haseul and Heejin might’ve lost their position as elders. And the Astra would’ve been worse off for it._

_Hyunjin might’ve been banished as well, having stepped into the very role her family had been in. She wondered if Hyojung and Seunghee would’ve let her come to them, or if they’d have been banned from seeing her. There were moments where Hyunjin wanted to leave, but she almost always wanted the option to come back. Leaving forever was a prospect she could barely face._

_And it was that reality that had been thrust upon Hyejoo._

_Hyunjin felt her eyes start to burn then. She blinked that warmth away._

_It didn’t go unnoticed._

_Heejin inched closer. “It doesn’t just have to be me crying, you know.”_

_Hyunjin smiled and shook her head. The burning subsided completely. She didn’t miss the flicker of hurt in the other girl’s eyes. Hyunjin hadn’t let her in, while Heejin was completely open._

_It wasn’t going to be something she amended. She’d already overstepped today when she’d not left Heejin’s side. And now she’d leapt across whatever boundary there’d been when she let Heejin stay. She could only hope that no one else had seen her._

_“What’re you thinking?” Heejin peered over at her._

_“Nothing,” she lied. “I’m tired from the night.” That part was at least true._

_“Oh.” Her doubt was plain, but she didn’t ask any other question. Hyunjin was grateful. “Can I?” Heejin’s eyes fell to the space between them._

_Hyunjin wanted to say no. Being any closer would make everything hurt more tomorrow._

_But being further away now would make Heejin feel worse. Hyunjin too._

_So she just nodded._

_Relief appeared in Heejin’s eyes. She scooted closer. Her hand found one of Hyunjin’s and laced their fingers together. That felt natural as well._

_Hyunjin wanted to move away again. Before, when they’d been so close that she could see the delicate changes of shade in Heejin’s eyes, her own eyes had drifted elsewhere. She’d let them wander then. She couldn’t let herself do that now._

_Hyunjin found herself wishing Heejin would stop looking at her. It made everything more difficult. It made her more conscious that someone could easily walk in, looking for Jinsoul or Jungeun, and they’d see the two of them here. Nothing had happened, or would happen, but no one would know that. They’d just assume the worst._

_And they’d have good reason to. Hyunjin wasn’t looking away from Heejin either. She could’ve turned around and started to sleep. But she hadn’t done that. She hadn’t even pulled her hand away._

_“Are you gonna leave again?” Heejin asked. She finally looked away from Hyunjin. Now she looked at their hands._

_Hyunjin hadn’t thought of leaving in weeks. The thought wouldn’t have crossed her mind for another few weeks, maybe even months._

_And now that Heejin was thinking about it, now of all times, what was she supposed to make of that?_

_“When?” Heejin’s voice had become even quieter._

_“Not for a while,” Hyunjin said._

_“Really?” Her eyes rose. Seeing the hope there was also painful. It meant there was a possibility that she’d hurt Heejin by leaving multiple times in the past years. That she’d left her alone for several years._

_She wasn’t alone, Hyunjin reminded herself. She’d had Haseul and the rest. She’d had Priad._

_“I’m happy you’re staying,” Heejin muttered. “So will Yerim. Yeojin too.” Then the tears started to well up again._

_Earlier, Hyunjin had been taken aback by how angry Heejin had been. Now, she hated how much pain there was. It made her light a dark silver._

_Hyunjin knew she’d regret it later. She knew she should’ve just left it where they were now._

_But Heejin was still in pain. And she’d come to Hyunjin, even though she shouldn’t have._

_Hyunjin pulled Heejin closer, letting her lean her head on Hyunjin’s chest. She held her as she’d once done. In spite of everything, Hyunjin felt a burst of warmth at the familiarity. The other times she’d held someone in her arms, the other times she’d been even closer to that person than she was now, they’d never felt her feel at home._

_She felt how Heejin relaxed into her arms._

_Hyunjin was reminded her of how cruel fate could be. It made moments like these feel complete, but that sense of comfort was only ever temporary._

_“Hyun?” Heejin shifted slightly, lifting her head. Her nose brushed Hyunjin’s neck and chin. She both wanted to pull her closer and tell her to leave the tent this very minute._

_She did neither._

_She just hummed. She didn’t trust how her voice would sound. It could’ve been shaky or been too quiet, too intimate._

_“Thank you.” Heejin gazed up at her with too much care, too much warmth._

_Hyunjin couldn’t look away._

_Naturally, fate didn’t let the same thing happen to one’s thoughts and feelings. More often than not, those stayed with you for years after those moments had passed. Sometimes, fate even let them strengthen._

_“For?” Hyunjin’s voice didn’t shake. She was thankful for that at least._

_Heejin shifted again. She was close enough that Hyunjin had to resist looking elsewhere._

_“Not turning me away this time,” she said. Her eyes flicked between Hyunjin’s._

_Hyunjin could only nod. Why had she drawn Heejin into her arms? Why, when it meant a moment like this?_

_Heejin’s eyes fell first, finding somewhere else on her face._

_She knew exactly where she was looking._

_“Only tonight,” Hyunjin muttered. “You’re lucky no one—”_

_“I know,” Heejin looked back up, “no one saw me. I made sure.”_

_“And what about tomorrow? If someone comes to wake Jinsoul because they need her, and they see you here?”_

_“They won’t,” Heejin said. “You’ll wake up early like always, make me leave, and then we’re safe.”_

_Safe. The word felt wrong._

_They lay there. Heejin wasn’t looking away. Neither was Hyunjin._

_No, they weren’t safe. Hyunjin was well aware that a decision was being offered to her. Was it the moon, sending her another small burst of cruelty? Or simply fate dangling everything Hyunjin wanted, only to take it away once the sun set?_

_It felt as though something were twisting in Hyunjin’s chest. It might’ve been nerves, but the way it was starting to hurt felt less likely. Was it the moon telling her there was a very wrong choice to be made?_

_“Hyun,” Heejin whispered._

_Hyunjin only looked at her. She was getting lost in the bright pink gaze, in the faint scent of a campfire and a stronger one of flowers. When had Heejin last done anything with flowers? Was it with the children? For some reason, Yuqi and Shuhua loved to make bouquets._

_“Breathe.”_

_Hyunjin did. Then her eyes fell as well._

_It would be so easy. And she knew how natural it would feel. She knew how happy they’d both be in this moment. If she just leaned in—_

_Hyunjin forced her gaze to move away._

_Heejin’s own gaze was fixed on hers. There were the beginnings of hope there, but also doubt. The message was clear. Your choice._

_So Hyunjin closed her eyes. “Sleep well.”_

_It was barely there, but Heejin sighed. “Sleep well.” Her head nestled back into Hyunjin’s chest. She’d no doubt feel her pounding heart. And that’d be alright._

_Hyunjin had made her choice. She’d have to live with this one just as she had the rest._

_What she hated most was how easy it would’ve been. No one might’ve known what’d happened and she might’ve been able to make Heejin smile. She would’ve been able to smile as well._

_Soon enough, she felt the leftover tension ease in Heejin, while her breath evened out. Asleep in within minutes. Like always._

_Hyunjin wanted to sleep as well. She was tired._

_But her mind was flooded with thoughts of the person in her arms. The prospect that someone could walk in this very second or before Hyunjin woke up terrified her. How quickly would the news reach Priad? Or the elders? And what would that mean for Heejin? Blatantly ignoring the moon and the person you were bound to, it didn’t happen._

_Except for now._

_Hyunjin’s mind could’ve spiralled for that reason alone. Half a century of the bond hadn’t changed anything. Leaving for several years hadn’t changed it either._

_She’d seen the proof of that in Heejin’s eyes. She’d felt it as well._

_Hyunjin fought a sigh. She’d said she wasn’t leaving any time soon. She wouldn’t. She needed to be there for those most affected by Hyejoo’s banishment. She needed to be there for Yeojin, Yerim, and Heejin. After they’d recovered, maybe she would leave. Not just for five years, but longer. Maybe a century this time._

_That’d have to change something. Anything. She needed it to._

_________

_Jungeun sighed as she sank down to the ground. She set about binding her ankle. She felt so drained. She’d used too much moonlight too quickly. The conjuring of flames hadn’t helped much either. At least she was used to this._

_Still, she let the embers of the fire pit burn a bit brighter. She didn’t put any light there, but she didn’t need to. All she needed now was the warmth._

_“Where’ve you been?”_

_Jungeun jumped. The movement tugged badly at her ankle. She hissed._

_Jinsoul’s eyes were wide and very much awake. Had she been waiting? Or could she just not sleep. Jungeun could barely blame her if it was the latter._

_“Out,” Jungeun replied._

_“Gathered as much.” She walked over to where Jungeun sat and knelt beside her. “Were you going to let this heal on its own?” Blue eyes had turned stern._

_“Nuala was gonna do the same,” Jungeun angled her ankle away, “and the natural healing doesn’t take that long.”_

_She snorted. “If the comparison is humans, then yes.” She placed her hand on Jungeun’s knee. “Don’t be stubborn.”_

_That made her smile. She pulled her leg away. It hurt, but that was fine._

_Jinsoul gave her a look. “I’ll just do it while you sleep.”_

_Jungeun chuckled. “You make it sound like a threat.”_

_“It might be.” She winked. Then her eyes grew serious. “How’d it happen?”_

_“Misjudged something. Couldn’t hold my own weight,” Jungeun grumbled. She reached for a waterskin and began to drink. It had been infused with moonlight. She closed her eyes, sighing._

_“You were fighting.” It wasn’t a question._

_Jungeun didn’t reply. She just closed the cap to the water and set it down. Jinsoul was already making a healing sigil. With her other hand, she took the waterskin from Jungeun._

_“Please tell me you didn’t try to find Hyejoo,” Jinsoul said. “I want her to be safe just as much as you do, but she’ll be too far away now.” The muscles around her eyes tightened._

_She knew that look._

_“I wasn’t looking for her,” Jungeun squeezed her arm, “I just had to get out.”_

_“Alone,” Jinsoul looked at her, “on a cloudy night.” She finished the sigil._

_Warmth shot up her foot. Then water was flowing out of the skin. It wrapped around Jungeun’s ankle in a graceful arc. Compared to the warmth from the sigil, it was cool. It soothed the pain immediately._

_“And that,” Jungeun began, “is why you’re the best of both worlds.”_

_Jinsoul could heal others, as well as fight. Jungeun could only fight and destroy. Why she earned more praise than the blue-eyed elf was beyond her. It was ridiculous._

_She saw her fight a smile. “Well, the best of both worlds has to keep the other one in good condition,” Jinsoul said. “Which means no lying.” A flicker of hurt appeared._

_“I have to wait until I tell you,” Jungeun said. “I don’t know when it’ll be fine to say anything like that yet.” If she told Jinsoul now and Yves, Chuu or Gowon changed their minds about lying for them, then the other girl would certainly try to defend her. And that would just drag Jinsoul into their mess. The less she knew now, the better._

_The hurt on her face remained._

_“I,” Jungeun hated to see that expression, “I’m putting a lot of trust in people who haven’t earned it.” In fact, they’d forfeited it completely._

_“Oh.” The hurt was replaced by confusion, then concern. “Did you do something stupid?”_

_Jungeun laughed, but her mouth was covered by Jinsoul’s hand in the next moment. “Not stupid,” she said, her voice now muffled. “Maybe short-sighted.”_

_Blue eyes bored into her own. She was struck by how much they looked like sapphires. She’d seen rulers wear them, so she knew well what those looked like. Yet Jinsoul’s were brighter than that. More beautiful too._

_Jungeun looked away._

_“Three days,” Jinsoul muttered. “And then you tell me what you did. Or else.” She dropped her hand, grabbed Jungeun’s, and pulled her up. They went into the tent._

_To her surprise, she saw that Hyunjin wasn’t alone. They were just sleeping. One of them looked an awful lot like Heejin._

_Jungeun looked away. That wasn’t any of her business._

_Yerim was huddled at the far end of the tent, arms wrapped around her torso. She faced away from them. Jungeun could only hope she'd been able to fall asleep._

_She didn't react when they'd come in._

_Jinsoul pulled her to one end._

_“My bed’s over there.” Jungeun pointed._

_“You’re with me tonight,” she replied. “You’re freezing.” She all but collapsed on the furs. Her arms opened. “Come on.”_

_Had she not lacked warmth in her body, Jungeun would’ve blushed. Simple things like this now made her stomach flip. They hadn’t been this close in a while because of how uncomfortable it made her. Jinsoul was starting to notice._

_Jungeun gave in, lying a good distance away._

_Jinsoul closed it, an arm going around her. “Whatever you did, you overdid it,” she whispered. “Don’t do something like that again.”_

_Jungeun wanted to tell her of the way the spirits had gotten stronger. That it was very likely she’d be doing something like that again. She had to. It required a lot of light and magic. Jungeun had both._

_“Did you hear me?”_

_“Yes,” Jungeun replied._

_“And?” Jinsoul raised a brow._

_“Can’t promise you anything, except that I’ll tell you about it in three days.”_

_The other elf sighed and pulled Jungeun closer to her. “You better.”_

_She tried to ignore how much she enjoyed being back in Jinsoul’s arms. She tried to ignore how her heart raced._

_She failed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a beast of a chapter, I know. However, I think it's a much needed background for the aftermath of Hyejoo's banishment. On the one hand, I wanted to show what Hyejoo felt the moment she escaped, but I also needed to explain a bit of what happened on yyxy's side, specifically Gowon's. 
> 
> Then there is the reaction of the rest. Did you expect Haseul, Jungeun, and Heejin to have done something like that? Do you agree with them? As for the rest, I wanted to show how certain people were there for one another. Hyunjin, despite the bond and whatever other doubts there, would still be there for Heejin. While Jinsoul has been there for Jungeun for most of the time that she's been at the Astra. 
> 
> For now, this is the last of backstory I'll be giving in this form. There may be more in future chapters, but I'm not sure which scenes that'd be. 
> 
> As for the chapter itself, it was a long one, I know, and that'll probably not be as common in this story. I'd really love to hear your thoughts, be it about the decisions made in this chapter, or some other aspect. 


	23. Paths and all

Seeing Heejin and Viian walk back together was surprising. That it’d been so soon was also unexpected. 

Haseul didn’t spot any corrupt light or injury on Viian. Nothing big at least. 

“Any news?” Heejin asked. She looked more tired than angry. 

She shook her head. “But Jungeun’s getting better. The light in Yerim hasn’t spread either.” 

Soon enough, she saw the unspoken question. 

“Nothing else changed,” Haseul said. 

Heejin deflated. “Okay,” she looked between then, “I need to, uh, check on something.” She hurried off then. 

Haseul was torn between going after her and letting her be. Heejin’s love for Hyunjin was unwavering, for better or for worse. 

Viian was looking at her expectantly. When am I going to have other jobs?” she asked. “Today was my first partial guard duty.”

“Tonight,” Haseul corrected. “To _day_ , you’ll be asleep. 

Vivi rolled her eyes. The corners of her lips had tugged up. 

“But you can start tomorrow or the night after, if you need rest.” Haseul starting walking to her tent. Vivi was close behind. “We need the people.”

Viian chuckled. “So I’m able to join that soon?” 

Haseul poked her side. “You managed a few days on your own, I think you’ve earned it.”

She shrugged. “Wouldn’t say that, but I heard you need the numbers.”

“Are you okay if we start training again?” After she said it, she wondered if she’d said the wrong thing. She’d just told her that she was ready. Now she was—

“Yeah,” Viian said. “I got lucky out there.” She didn’t elaborate, but Haseul knew there was more. Was she ashamed of something? Or something else. “So I think we can still train?”

Haseul smiled. “We can train.”

They reached the fire-pit soon enough. Viian didn’t have to say it, but the way she eyed the grilled meat was clear. 

Haseul put a generous serving of beef and rise on a plate and handed it to her. 

It was almost funny how surprised the other girl was. It also reminded Haseul of Jungeun when she’d first come here. She’d been taken aback if someone had treated her _well_. 

Because of that, Haseul just poured her a glass of orange juice. It glittered as well. Almost everything they had was filled with light. She wasn’t even sure if drinking light was better than absorbing it, but it made everything easier. And more enjoyable. 

“Thanks.” Viian took the glass. Then she started eating. She was practically inhaling the food. When was the last time she’d eaten?

“If you go on another trip like that,” Haseul said. “Maybe take a pack.”

She shook her head. “I’m not too bad at hunting. I’d make do.”

“Then why’re you eating as if this is your first meal in days?”

Viian shrugged. “It is.”

Haseul looked at her for a long moment. 

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” she glanced at her, “I was in a rush to get here. Hunger made me faster.”

“And then you finished guard with Heejin?” 

Viian chuckled. Her eyes crinkled when she did that. “Haven’t you ever been so involved with something that the hunger faded away?”

 _War_ , Haseul thought. “A few times.” 

The other girl’s brow furrowed. Briefly, Haseul wondered if she’d question that. 

“Well, that happened here.” The corner of her lip tugged up. “I think I understand.” Her eyes had a teasing edge. 

Haseul didn’t know what’d brought this change about. Had it been the conversation with Heejin? Or just the time she’d spent alone?

“What?” 

“Why Yeojin says you act like you’re her mother.” 

Haseul felt a laugh bubble up. “I _am_ like her mother, thank you very much.” 

Viian smiled fully. Her eyes formed crescents. 

Haseul felt both stunned and proud. If this wasn’t a rare occurrence, then Viian would be opening up sooner than Jungeun or Yerim had. Jinsoul had taken a long time. Haseul had expected Viian to be more like her than the other two. 

“At least you’re admitting you’re like that,” Viian said. “Even if you’re trying to mother someone older than you.” 

“Sure you’re that much older?” Haseul frowned at her. “You’ve got more moon cycles, but not _that_ many.”

“Moon cycles?” 

“Some of us can see that,” Haseul replied. “It doesn’t always agree with the mortal timeline, but I’d reckon you’re about eight hundred years old.” 

Viian blinked. “You’re right.” She raised a brow. “Moon cycles are practically months. You’re doing all those calculations on your own?”

“What,” she crossed her arms, “you don’t think I know basic mathematics?”

Viian shrugged. “Well it is more of a human skill.”

“We learned it that way,” Haseul said. “Over nine thousand moon cycles is a bit of a mouthful.” 

“Is that all you use the numbers for?” 

She shook her head. “I’ve been trying to quantify moonlight, see how we can divide it between us.” 

Viian looked at her for a few seconds. Had she been another person, Haseul would’ve gotten unnerved by that look. Now, she just really wanted to know what she was thinking. 

“And how’s that been going?” 

Haseul felt her face redden. “Badly,” she admitted. “Just like the way some spirits are filled with more light than others, the same applies to the light we can make.” She summoned a small piece of moonlight. “This could be less potent than something you summon, or twice as strong.” 

A shard formed in Viian’s hand. She looked between it and Haseul’s. 

“This time mine seems to have more,” she muttered. “Why?”

Haseul found herself smiling. “If you ask the fairy who’s on her way, she’ll tell you it’s based on our mood. It probably is, but the amount of light we have also plays a role there.” 

“But you can still control it?” 

She nodded. “Yet you do it without thinking much of it, you’ll just have your current state.” She absorbed her light back. “So you might be in a better mood than me, or you absorbed more light than I did.” 

Viian threw up the piece of moonlight and caught it. She looked at it again, an inquiring look in her eyes. Then she absorbed it. Haseul watched her skin start to glow softly. 

“Who’s on her way?” Viian asked. “Dahyun?”

Haseul wasn’t surprised she knew her. Dahyun was one of the more social emotional fairies. For reasons that weren’t all uplifting, but she’d been open enough to learn _crosesh_ and a few other elven languages. It was almost to be expected that Dahyun would’ve been the one to go between the different clans, if needed. 

“She’s the only help we have when it comes to the bright spirits,” Haseul said. “Something about the things she can counter there.”

Viian’s brow twitched then. There was a type of uncertainty there. Did she know how Dahyun did it? Or something else?

“Is Yerim the only one who’s been injured by a bright spirit?” 

“Of the people we have here,” Haseul nodded, “and she tried to control it. So she really does need whatever Dahyun will give her.”

Viian’s frown made it clear that she had to explain that. 

“Unless it saves your life, don’t try to control a bright spirit’s light. Not even the benevolent type’s.” She remembered trying it on a friendlier spirit. Her mind had been uncomfortably warm for days. “You end up taking in that light and it’s never what you want.” She wracked her brain for how to best describe that. “Did you ever have too much of an emotion? Like accidentally hold some for too long?”

Viian nodded. Of course, she wasn't fazed by the concept. To Haseul, it was still weird to think about emotions being something she could touch. It was a relatively new magic too. Dahyun herself had discovered it.

“It’s that, but it doesn’t fade after a few hours. It takes days. And if it’s from the spirits that attack, it hurts.” She’d never had that pain. She just knew how it felt to have an emotional fairy try and drive an emotion into her head. “Sometimes it can break a person, others it just takes a long time for them to even be able to see light.” 

“And when it comes to controlling it again?” Viian leaned forward. “How long would that take?” There was an edge to her voice. Concern?

“With Dahyun’s help, about a week. If not, I’ve seen it take months for someone to recover.” Usually those who tried to push their limits, convinced that _they_ were strong enough. They never were. 

“Did it pay off?” she asked. “The risk she took.”

“She saved them,” Haseul said. 

Viian just nodded. Her gaze went to the fire. 

All of Haseul wished that there’d been another option. But even then, she knew that Yerim had done the best she could. 

“And what’ve you been doing?” Viian had looked away from the fire. 

Haseul took a moment to process that. “Planning and patrol,” she said. “Had a run-in with a vampire.” She grimaced. “They really like the taste of moonlight.” 

Viian’s eyes trailed elsewhere. Haseul realised she was looking at her neck. 

She reached up to it. The bite marks were faint, but they still hadn’t healed fully. 

“Couldn’t fend it off in time?” Viian asked. Her brow was furrowed, but she was smiling. 

“You’re going to tell me you’re faster than a vampire?” 

She tapped her ear. “I’m not too bad at knowing they’re coming.”

Haseul chuckled. “So you’re saying my hearing’s poor.”

Viian shrugged. “You said it.” A pause. “I’m lucky no vampire came after me. My blood’s been wanted for its uniqueness.” She scoffed. 

“It’s good you weren’t gone that long then.” As soon as she said it, she wondered if that was too much. 

“A few days is short here too?” Viian’s brow rose. 

“We have patrols and people who try going around the world.” 

She smiled. “Right.” 

Haseul was tempted to ask if a few days hadn’t been enough. She also wanted to ask if she was planning on leaving again. It’d be fine based on how many they had on patrol and guard, but they’d probably have to know that first. 

“I didn’t expect I’d miss that much,” Viian said. “If there’s something you need me to do here, you just have to tell me.” 

“You want to be put to work immediately?” Haseul asked. “We usually give people a few days rest, especially if they’ve been awake for a long time.” She had a feeling Viian hadn’t slept since leaving. Especially since she hadn’t gotten accustomed to their nocturnal schedule. 

“I don’t need it.” She tapped a short rhythm on the plate. “Resting means more thinking. And I’ve already had that.” There was something final in the way she spoke.

Haseul got a knot in her stomach then. Maybe Viian had just come back to learn a bit more about moonlight. And then she’d also decided to help more as she did. And then she’d leave. 

Haseul couldn’t exactly fault her for not wanting to stay. There’d been several days when she’d wanted to do the same. 

That bright smile reappeared. “I’m not leaving, if that’s what you were wondering.”

In spite of everything, Haseul felt a part of herself relax then. She shouldn’t have actually cared, but she was still happy to hear it. 

“You think you can tolerate us?” 

“Some of you at least,” Viian shot back, a glint in her eye. 

Haseul laughed. “We’re a big enough group that you can avoid those you don’t like.” 

“Always?”

“There are ways of doing it, Viian," she winked, “we’ll teach you them along with everything else.” 

Viian gave her an unreadable look then. Haseul thought she was getting a better grasp on the nuances by now. Clearly, there were more she still didn’t have settled. 

After a few seconds, she spoke. "Call me Vivi. Then her shoulders loosened fully. She leaned back and tilted her head up to the sky, her pink hair dangling past her shoulders. Her skin was glowing even brighter now. 

It took a few minutes for Haseul to realise she was staring. She was glad no one had been there to notice. 

______

Yeojin looked at the plate in her hands and back to the hut of dirt. There was no sparkle in the water, nor a flicker of light in the meat or sauce. It was weird having no light in her hands or on her skin, but that’s what she needed. 

As she got closer, the wall of dirt parted. The motion was too smoothly to be called crumbling. 

And in that moment, Yeojin knew she couldn’t turn away anymore. She steeled herself, pushing away visions of Yerim’s bloodied form. 

“Hi!” Yerim grinned at her. A small fire burned, but the smell of smoke had been drowned out by fruits and flowers. 

Yeojin was momentarily stunned at the plants strewn across the floor, some even emerging from the walls. 

“Were you planning on moving here?” She half-wondered if that could even be taken as a joke. 

Yerim laughed. “I’m keeping it even after I’m better, so I guess I’m tempted.” She looked around, a fond look in her eyes. 

Yeojin saw that her purple eyes were dimmer than normal. The cuts had healed, save for a thicker scar along her forehead. 

The leg was wrapped in cloth that’d been soaked in water and something else. Yeojin had helped get the water from the river. The other paste was something Yerim had learned to make from some witch. Jinsoul had told her about the different powders and pastes Yerim had created with a very proud smile. 

The light was still in her leg. Yeojin felt uncomfortable looking at it. 

At least there wasn’t a lot of darkness. Nothing was in her heart. 

“It smells.” Yeojin sat down. Then she handed the food and water over. 

Yerim shrugged. “I like it this way.”

There was a small crack on the far end. A gap of about a hand’s width opened. 

“But I can air it out if you like?” 

“No,” Yeojin said hurriedly. “It’s good smells—smells good.” She cringed at how she stumbled over her words. 

She laughed. “If you say so.” She started eating. The hole didn’t close. The strong scents had subsided slightly. 

They sat in a weird silence. Yerim had clearly been very hungry. 

The place was somehow incredibly cozy. There were open pouches and boxes, some filled with crushed herbs, others with seeds. 

Yeojin wondered if this was the main way Yerim had decorated her surroundings before she got the magic of the moon. 

“I knew I needed to do something while in here,” Yerim said. “So I got productive.”

“Aren’t plants hard for you?”

“They were,” she said. Pause. “But I learned it twice, so by now I’m pretty good.”

 _Learned it twice._ That didn’t make any sense. 

Yerim continued before she could ask. “Mind telling me why I saw Vivi before I saw you?” The smile on her face had softened, but, of course, it was there. 

Yeojin had to look away. Her face was growing warm. 

“You know this was because of a bright spirit, right?” Yerim waved at her leg. “I’m very sure you didn’t attack me or split my head open.” She crossed her eyes with a slight chuckle. “Unless I forgot.” Clearly, she expected the words to be funny. 

Yeojin shook her head. “You wouldn’t have been there if I hadn’t gone out.”

She shrugged. “I might’ve followed Hyunjin out.”

There was something off there. Yeojin couldn’t place what it was. 

“And if I hadn’t followed you, or you would’ve stayed, it would’ve just been Hyunjin out there.”

Again, Yeojin shook her head. She couldn’t let her justify them going out like they had. It’d been a mistake. “That’s not—” 

Yerim cut her off. “Someone was going to clear out that house. Hyunjin was already ready to go the day she did. You would’ve gone out there at some point, no matter if I’d stopped you that day or not. And with how things are changing, some spirits are bound to cross our path.” The smile was gone. “So if you came to apologise, don’t. This was between me and that snake.” 

It was weird seeing her be serious. It wasn’t that she’d been insincere before when she just smiled, but Yeojin had rarely bought it. She knew that Yerim hadn’t been completely fake, but the positivity had just annoyed her. 

“Yeojin.” She set down her food and turned fully to her. Yeojin didn’t miss the wince when she moved her leg. “This wasn’t your fault.”

“Already been told that,” Yeojin replied. 

Yerim looked at her for a long moment. Then she waved at hand at the far end. The gap in the first closed. There was a small crumbling sound as a branch dug into the dirt. The sigil to muffle sound was carved in all around the hut of dirt. 

That meant two things: either Yerim was going to tell her some secret or she was going to get even. Yeojin wouldn’t even complain if she got a mouth full of dirt or was buried up to her neck. Those had been the rare moments when Yerim had gotten angry at someone else. Either they’d disrespected Jungeun or spoken ill about Hyejoo. 

“I can promise that it wasn’t your fault,” Yerim said. “Everything I did was my decision. What happened to us, the spirits, I knew what I was doing.” 

“How can you know that?” Yeojin gave her a look. “We didn’t see those coming at all.” 

“You didn’t,” she said quietly. “Before, I realised they were coming.” 

“Before?”

Yerim held her gaze. “You need to promise you’ll never tell.”

She could barely guess what it would be. “Promise.”

“I’m a seer,” she said. “Had it after she—Hyejoo was forced out.” 

Yeojin couldn’t believe her ears. “A seer,” she repeated. “Paths and all?” Somehow, it didn't seem like that much of a stretch. In a way, it was amazing that Yerim didn't just have two types of magic, but three. 

“Paths and all.” She nodded. 

“So before,” she started. “You knew the spirit was coming?”

“I knew where you wanted to go,” Yerim said. “And when that bright spirit was coming our way, I–I knew you’d get hurt, and badly, and that Hyunjin,” she faltered. Her eyes fell. 

Yeojin didn’t have to ask what that meant. She knew Yerim had saved their lives. Even if she should've never had to, she had. 

“So it really wasn’t you,” Yerim continued. “It doesn't take much to change a spirit's path. Neither you or Hyunjin could’ve done anything.”

“You didn’t know it was coming when you followed me?” That’d explain a lot about the past years. Had Yerim known about those spirits that’d attacked before? Had she followed to help her?

“Not that time.” Yerim shook her head. “I thought we’d all be alright.” Her lip trembled. “But the future can be unpredictable too.” 

Yeojin frowned. “And you thought taking that spirit on by yourself would help?”

“It did,” she muttered. “I wouldn’t have gotten hurt if we’d have fought it.” A lost look appeared then. “I still don’t know why.”

“So you did something that’d lead to you getting hurt anyway.”

She just shrugged. “It worked.” She smiled. “We survived.” 

“But you can’t use any light,” Yeojin said. “For how long?”

“A few days, depends on how this turns out.” She pointed at her leg. "But I've been cut off from magic before. I know how to get back from there."

Yeojin remembered what she'd said about learning to grow plants twice. "When did you lose your first one? Before you came to us?"

Yerim looked away. "Before I became a seer." 

So after Hyejoo had been banished. 

"Do you think it's connected?" Losing one thing, before regaining it _and_ having another magic? It made sense to her. Even if she'd only ever had one magic (she didn't count sigils and spells). 

After a long moment, Yerim shook her head. "I felt so lost when she was gone. I couldn't believe what they'd done to her." She glanced up at Yeojin once. An uncharacteristic gloom had come over her face. "Getting life to flourish didn't quite fit there. I barely managed to summon a decent piece of light either." 

Yeojin felt a growing sensation of guilt again. 

"But no," Yerim interrupted her thoughts. "I don't think I'll be even more powerful once my magic comes back." She huffed out a laugh. "But if I do, I'll show you." 

They sat there, once again in silence. Yeojin watched as she kept eating. She noticed that her eyes were glowing a bit more. Hyunjin’s eyes were still too dim, so this was a good sign. 

“I feel fine,” Yerim broke the silence, “my head still hurts, yeah, my leg burns, and I’m cold.” The smile returned. She looked more relieved than anything. “But the fairy's coming soon and she'll help. So I’m good."

“Really,” she raised a brow, “because it sounds like you feel terrible.” 

Yeojin winked at her. “That too.”

Yeojin knew this sort of attitude would’ve annoyed her before. Now it made her realise two things. Yerim was a lot stronger than she looked, but also that her smile was used to cover that. And to hide something else. Was that just the fact that she could see the future? Yeojin didn’t know her well enough to tell the difference. A part of her wanted to find out. 

_______

Yves looked at the empty bed. There was another spot beside it. It had no bed at all. 

The sight made her chest ache. She’d let this happen. 

She was surrounded by empty beds. Chaewon would only be back in a few hours. Jiwoo might not be coming back for the entire night. 

Yves left the tent. 

The sleep schedules of elves were as varied as those of mortals. Some were wide awake at this time, others had long since disappeared into their tents. 

Yves was pretty sure she was somewhere in the middle there. Sometimes, the discussions had about vampire or werewolf attacks went right into sunrise. Others, a hunt would take them too far away. They either camped there or used the day to walk back. Those sorts of days usually ended with a sunburn and three days of being exhausted. 

“You’re not doing the search anymore?” 

Yves looked to where the question came. It was Onew. He’d become an elder about ten years ago. Still young, but that was a good sign. He also wasn’t that stubborn. 

She shook her head. “Gave that over to Lisa.” 

“Can I ask why?” His brow furrowed. It didn’t look like a challenge. Just a genuine question. 

Yves looked to the rest. A few had looked over. Most were more involved in whatever conversations they were having. Onew’s own group were currently debating the merits of having a mental fairy sit in on discussions. Surprisingly, it looked like an even debate. No shouting either. 

“We’re not right for it,” Yves said. Jiwoo had said they’d be more useful going after the aggressive dark spirits. She was right, but Yves knew full well that wasn’t the actual reason. 

Onew nodded. “If we do find her,” he began, “we won’t hurt her.” His eyes flicked between hers. “The others just don’t want her too close.” 

Even if she was doing more for them closer than further away. Even if she was closer to the place she called home. 

Yves knew she’d come here to kill someone. She hadn’t. And she’d also stayed here. It hadn’t been for any of them, but for herself. She was in a place she knew, surrounded by towns and cities she’d been to before. She also knew the mortal language here. 

“And what about you?” she asked. Would he posture and say something vague? Or something substantial? 

He held her gaze. “All that has to happen is she moves down a region. After that, the seers’ll barely feel her presence and she can live exactly how she wants to.” 

Yves looked away. She’d never let herself entertain the thought of Hyejoo ever coming back. Not only did she firmly believe that Hyejoo wouldn’t want to, not after everything they’d done to her, but she also knew the Astra wouldn’t accept her. They hadn’t before, not really. They definitely wouldn’t now. 

And Onew was well aware of that, maybe even more than she was. 

“You miss her, I understand that.” Onew smiled then. “Co-existence without crossing paths. That’s what you’re trying to get too, isn’t it?”

Yves gave him a small nod, but said nothing. They'd probably end up taking up patrol. With Jungeun _and_ Choerry out of commission, along with lower numbers because of the search parties, patrol was the clear option. 

Knowing the conversation was over, Onew just said, “good day,” before going back to the rest. 

Yves kept walking. 

Chaewon was a fair distance away, but it was the same place as always. Less than a century ago, she’d never gone there alone. She’d had someone by her side. Yves knew that they’d laugh, talk, bicker, and train. Sometimes, they'd gone there when one or the other had gotten stuck in the past. They'd been there together when one had felt isolated, or an old wound had opened up again. 

And now, it was a place where Chaewon only ever went alone. 

It was by the river. At this time, the moon usually peered through the branches, creating a small space of light. 

Chaewon sat in the centre of it, a gleaming sword in her lap. Her head was bowed, her shoulders hunched over. Yves was reminded of a night of centuries ago. They'd all been younger, far less experienced with the world and the cruelty within it. Each of them had been thrust into the worst of awakenings. Chaewon had come away broken. She'd healed over the years. There had been stretches of time when they'd all believed she'd become whole again. 

But seeing her now, Yves didn't know how long it would take her to get to that state again. She just knew that she'd never leave Chaewon's side until she started healing again. 

“Here to get me to sleep?” Her voice was lower than normal. Harsher too. 

“Here to see how you are,” Yves replied. 

Chaewon looked up. Her mouth was set in a firm line. Tears streaked down the sides of her face. 

"And now you've seen it.” She started to clean the sword’s shaft.

 _Go away_ was the message. 

Yves sat down across from her. She stretched out her legs so her foot brushed Chaewon’s knee. 

She didn’t stop polishing the sword. 

So Yves reached for the other one. 

Chaewon stepped on it. “I haven’t done that one yet.” In her eyes was the same defensiveness of that night. Yves had known then that Chaewon hadn't intended on getting rid of them. Had that been a mistake?

She gave her a look. “Can I at least look at it?” 

The foot lifted. 

Yves unsheathed the blade. There was no sign of wear, not even dust on the hilt. 

She looked back to Chaewon. Her eyes were locked on the sword. There was no mask, not even now when Yves was sitting across from her. All she saw was guilt and pain. It hurt her just as much. 

“Why do you still have these?” 

Chaewon stiffened. “I’m not getting rid of them.” 

It was exactly the reaction Yves hadn’t wanted to see. 

“Why?”

No response. 

“I’m not telling you to get rid of them,” Yves said. She put the sword back beside Chaewon. “Just tell me why we’re not.” 

The hand on the blade paused. Yves watched as Chaewon’s gaze shifted to the space in front of her. She was looking at the bond. Something broken. 

Chaewon let out a dry laugh. “All I can think of is why we should.” 

Yves didn’t say anything. She’d pushed her. Now she had to let her speak. 

“She’s never coming back,” she said slowly. “And she has magic now.” She continued to polish the sword. “So she’ll never need them again.” She took a deep breath. “They’re useless.”

Another round of silence came. Chaewon only broke it to switch swords. She’d been out here for at least an hour. Had she been lost in thought this entire time? And what had taken up her mind? The bond? Hyejoo being closer than she had in years? Or the fact that Yves and Jiwoo had decided to stop looking for her? 

“But I need them.” Chaewon chuckled. “How pathetic is that?”

“I’ve seen worse.” 

“Pining witches and hopeless vampires don’t count.” She gave her a look, one with a slight raised eyebrow. It was one Yves had seen only occasionally. Once there’d been constant judgement. Yves missed that constant exchange of snide comments and bursts of laughter. 

Yves got up and sat beside her. She lightly knocked their shoulders together. 

The corner of Chaewon’s lip curled up. “You know, you could just give these to Viian. I bet she could melt them down and we’d be done with it.”

“You wouldn’t want that.” Yves frowned at her. “I thought you were gonna stab me when I asked you about them.”

She snorted. “It’s because you’re right. I shouldn’t have kept them.” Her gaze softened the moment she looked back down at the sword. “They’re just a reminder.”

“None of us need a reminder to remember,” Yves replied. The thought of Hyejoo came to her every day. The shame of what Yves had done, and hadn't done, had never faded. 

Chaewon's smile weakened. She knew that better than anyone. Not just with Hyejoo. Yves hated that loss was so familiar to the younger girl. 

“So it’s not a reason for you to sell or melt them down,” Yves finished. 

Chaewon just nodded. She kept wiping at the blade. 

Yves didn’t have to ask why Chaewon cleaned the blades. She hadn’t even needed to ask why she kept them, but she’d needed to hear why they were so precious to her. 

“Did you want to keep looking for her?” 

Chaewon shook her head. “I never wanted to.” She bit her lip. “I know what she’d do. What she’d _want_ to do.” Her eyes had become glassy again. “And I know I’d let her.” 

Yves knew she had it in her to do the same. If Hyejoo really wanted to hurt them, or worse, Yves saw no reason why she shouldn’t. 

“Don’t say that,” Yves said, her tone harsher then she wanted it to be. “You don’t deserve that. You don’t deserve to be hurt for it.” _You’ve already been hurt_ , she thought.

Chaewon didn’t reply. Yves knew she didn’t believe her. 

“We’re not looking for her, because it could happen. I don’t think it _should_ happen,” she told her. “You’ve paid for the mistake. Nothing else _should_ happen, because of it.” 

“ _I’ve_ paid?” She looked up. “Jiwoo and you haven’t?”

“We’re not the ones with a pain in our chest,” Yves replied. _And I didn’t lose the person I loved most_ _in this world_. 

Chaewon set the sword on her lap, the blade pointing away from Yves. “Maybe, but that doesn’t mean you’re not hurting either.” She reached over and squeezed her hand. “If you’re saying I don’t deserve to get hurt, neither do you or Jiwoo.” Then she kept cleaning the blade. 

Yves watched her work. There was a weight in her stomach. It was her turn not to believe what she heard. 

She could’ve told Chaewon that what’d been said wasn’t true. She could’ve defended Hyejoo, no matter if it was true or not. It shouldn’t have mattered if Hyejoo was dangerous or not. They should’ve been there for her. Jiwoo wasn’t to blame. She’d gone along with what Yves had said. But it had been Yves who’d agreed with the elders. She’d been the one to turn away first. 

When they went back, the sun was rising. Yves was both tired and alert. She wanted to move. Jiwoo wasn’t back yet. She wanted to wait for her. But this might’ve been a patrol that took a few days. That almost made it worse. 

Yves listened as Chaewon tucked the swords between the furs, hidden from view, but well within her reach. 

She hadn’t asked why Chaewon still cleaned them. She hadn't even asked her why she was cleaning them weeks before she usually did it.

Tending to those swords was one of the things that she could actually _do_. Even though Hyejoo would never lay a finger on those swords, they were still hers. Chaewon cleaned the blades, because they were the last piece of Hyejoo that she had, everything else being lost or broken. 

______

Olivia knelt in front of a small bush. She wracked her mind for whether or not this was the right root. She decided that it had to be. She vaguely remembered a lesson Yerim had given her over a century and a half ago. She’d taught her the elixirs to make. All to make sure Olivia felt somewhat useful. 

She smiled at the memory. 

It was soon soured when she remembered the person who’d been with her then. The person who’d gone with her, enduring hours of scouring through bushes and roots and weeds, just so that Olivia could mix the elixir she needed. 

That person had done a lot, but not when it’d most mattered. She’d turned away then. She’d _wanted_ Olivia to go. 

Olivia shoved that person from her mind. She ripped out the plant and others like it, before getting to her feet. She shoved it in her bag and started walking to the town. 

It wasn’t hard to find the place of the witch. Not only was there a fair amount of darkness around her, because of her magic and near eternal youth, but there was also a small amount of light. Some Astra did go to witches, specifically ones like Jungeun or Hyunjin who were more comfortable with non-elves. They could be useful for magic that wasn’t intrinsically theirs. For Olivia, she’d sought out multiple witches to teach her what magic they could. This one she’d seen once in the past few years. 

She didn’t knock before opening the door. 

There was a sharp cry. Something fell to the floor. 

Doyeon scowled at her. “Mind announcing that you’re coming?” She glowered at a now fallen crystal. It hadn’t broken. 

Olivia threw the sack of flora at her. “Mind telling me why you’re dealing with Astra again?” She also knew exactly who’d been here. A part of her wanted to destroy those traces of light. 

She caught it and raised a brow. “I told them the last place you were in. Not this one.” 

Olivia didn’t comment on that. “My money?”

“I swear,” Doyeon muttered. “You’re the only greedy elf I’ve met.” 

“Then you haven’t met enough.” She thought of Alluin’s group. Alluin himself was extremely greedy. And the Astra had their own greed, even if it wasn’t monetary. 

Doyeon muttered something under her breath as she got the money. She checked what was in her hand before setting it on the table. 

“What do you need it for anyway?” She frowned at her. “You can get whatever you want without it.”

Olivia decided against telling her that she didn’t want to steal. “They always notice it in the end,” she said. “I want to stay here a while until then.” 

Doyeon’s brow rose. “You’ll be gathering a lot of herbs until then.” 

“Have anything else that’ll pay more?” 

She hadn’t expected an answer, but the witch straightened. 

“What’re you willing to do?” 

“I don’t plan on being your assassin.” 

Doyeon rolled her eyes. “Going straight to the magic word,” she shook her head, “you’d be more of a glorified monster hunter.” 

Monster was a relative term. Most considered it to apply to deformed beasts whose minds were only focused on destruction. The Astra called corrupted spirits monsters. They also deemed Olivia a monster. 

Alluin had depicted the humans being murdered as monsters. 

Olivia had seen enough of both elves and fairies to call a few monsters. 

But she knew what sort of monsters Doyeon referred to. “Vampire or werewolf?” 

“Vampires.” She examined one of her many rings. Just one of those would get Olivia a few weeks worth of food. Even more if there was a decent enchantment on it. “They’re either really callous, or just newborns. Massacred a travelling merchant party three days ago, then a noble and his guards yesterday. The outskirts of a town is next, just a farm if we’re lucky.”

“How do you know that?” Olivia frowned at her. Normally, the seers would be looking into this. Or those on patrol would hear the story of a mysterious attack. As far as she knew, witches never looked out for rumours like that. If anything, they’d be at taverns to get a better reputation, a bedfellow, client, or all three. The list went on. 

Doyeon raised a brow. “Scrying doesn’t just help me find people. I can also follow blood trails.”

In the back of her mind, Olivia wondered if she could do the same to follow Alluin and the rest. Then she’d know if they were coming. 

But she wouldn’t drag the witch into that. Not yet at least. 

“Why’re you following those? Need a new experiment?”

The darkness around the witch strengthened. Outrage, but not the desire to murder. Or cause some other type of suffering. 

“I’d like to stop the murders,” Doyeon snapped. “It’s not just your fellow elves and fairies who try to protect the humans.” 

Olivia bit back her response. She hadn’t expected this witch to care. Was she as judgemental as the witches and vampires were to the fae and elven people? She supposed she was. 

“So my guess was that you can tell if they’re a real murderer or not,” Doyeon said, the edge to her tone now gone. “You know, like how the Astra trust me in the first place and all.” 

_And why I trust you,_ Olivia thought. While Doyeon was very often arrogant and dealt with too many people at once for Olivia to ever feel comfortable around her, she was far from evil. “I’ll find them. Just give me a direction.” 

“They’ll be in Huyeo next.” She went to her cauldron. “Just a snack this time.” She said it dismissively. 

Only this time, Olivia caught a small surge in the darkness. She didn’t know if she was actually reading her emotions, only that she could vaguely tell which was which. She knew someone was being driven by rage. She knew if they wanted, or had, to give in to the desire to something terrible. And she knew if they were scared. 

Doyeon was scared. She wasn’t asking Olivia to go after someone purely to have them dead. She was asking her to do it to stop others from dying. 

That was different than revenge. It had to be. 

“The next time I see your ex-family, I can send them after them.” Doyeon shrugged. No matter who did it, she’d stop the rampage. 

“How many?” Only three had been here. And only three would be sent after them. 

“Four,” she said. “One’s got to be the creator, but you’ll find that out then.” 

“Your scrying doesn’t tell you everything?” 

Doyeon frowned at her. “I think my magic does a lot more than yours does.”

“You’re good at many things,” Olivia replied. “But what I do, I’ve devoted more than your lifetime in honing that.” She didn’t mention that she’d only controlled the darkness for a fraction of her life. 

“Right,” she scoffed, “how foolish of me to forget you’re all immortal.” She muttered something and the cauldron began to fill with water. “It’s not like every single elf I see has to tell me I’m a child to them.”

Olivia didn’t need her magic to see the frustration there. She was quite sure that most witches had that. It was a shaky thing to deal with witches. Most weren’t immortal and most just wanted to live their lives as completely as they could. That usually included doing almost anything that their magic allowed them. Some went to necromancy, others to manipulation of the living. And the reality was that if the elves lived the same amount of time as they did, their magic wouldn’t let them achieve as much. 

But they were immortal. A lot of fairies had used that fully to their advantage, learning about their magic for years on end. The elves just strengthened their capabilities without questioning much. It didn’t matter if they had a limited range in magic. Time made them stronger. 

“But we’ll still need your help,” Olivia said. “You’ve integrated in ways I can’t.” She didn’t know how to go that route anyway. A part of her didn’t want to witness how fleeting mortal lives could be. More than once, Yerim had once broken down crying, because she’d lost a friend she’d made among the humans. “And you can do more than I can.” 

Doyeon looked taken aback. 

“I’ll go,” Olivia turned to the door, “do you need confirmation?” Proof that they were dead. Usually, that just meant collecting their ashes in a small vial. 

“I’ll know.” A pause. “If they’re newborns, try not to kill them.” Something sad came over her expression. “Bring them here if they survive.” 

As in, if they didn’t try to kill her. Or if Olivia could restrain them long enough to bring them back. 

“I’ll try.”

The corner of her lip tugged up. “Thank you.” 

Olivia didn’t respond. She just left. The shadows weren’t reaching for her, but she felt cold. 

Vampires might’ve been considered monsters, but they were immortal, just as elves were. They’d once been human too. It was a fusion of the two worlds. They knew the humans better than any elf or fairy could. And they were stronger and faster than most too. That was one of the main reasons why witches didn’t go against them directly. Not usually, at least. 

Olivia had fought werewolves before. She’d killed elves and fairies. She’d also killed a fair amount of vampires too. 

So why did this feel different? Because it wasn’t out of self-defence? Because she didn’t know if the vampire was being driven by hunger or some darker part of their soul? 

Or because she’d looked into the eyes of someone who’d begged her to let him live? Someone who she’d let live, only for him to be slaughtered along with several others?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, Viseul are talking again. Whenever I write from Haseul's perspective, I start to miss her even more. Yeojin and Choerry's interactions are fun to follow, especially as there's some more honesty coming in. As for Gowon and Olivia, their pieces are both challenging to write, but really compelling for me at the same time. Gowon's pain is difficult, because I end up feeling that same sense of longing for something you know you won't be getting back. For that reason, I always want to show you more about her situation, because although she knows she was wrong, she's still paying for that mistake. As for Olivia, she can't quite get away from the path she'd been on before. She still has to do different jobs for money. And this next one is very similar to what she's already done (and hadn't wanted to do). Do you think it'll have a different result to before?
> 
> I'm really hoping that the combination of different perspective is working for you. It's how I've been able to write this story the best. There are certain characters whose arcs just meld together really well, like Gowon and Olivia's perspectives. To me, they fit, but that's also the way I've been processing the story as a writer. 
> 
> But it's not just me who's following the stories. The timing of certain events may feel a bit off, but if you think it would read easier if restructured, feel free to say so. 
> 
> Once again, I'd really love to know your thoughts, both on the structure of this story, but also about the content. 


	24. Monster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Later in this chapter, there is violence. If brutality of that sort does make you uncomfortable, then feel free to go to the end of the chapter. 

“Patrol’s simple,” Haseul said. “Most of the time.” She handed her a waterskin. They were finally finished with training. If Vivi had kept score, she was quite sure they’d have been even. Haseul was skilful, but she didn’t always expect the manoeuvres Vivi made. It was the same the other way round. 

And it made the sparring sessions even better. It didn’t take much to see that Haseul had been involved in real fights, ones with actual stakes, instead of simple duels and spirit encounters. They were on the same page there. 

Vivi accepted the waterskin. She drank. The moonlit water was really growing on her. It was both invigorating and refreshing. A strange combination, but it worked. She supposed that was how it was supposed to be, considering their lunar magic. 

That was another benefit to add to her list. She’d begun keeping one to better appreciate the place she was supposed to call home. It was a short list, but a list nonetheless. She could only hope that once Dahyun came, she'd tell her a bit more about why she trusted the Astra so much. Few knew why that emotional fairy visited the lunar elves more than most and fewer had actually asked. Vivi would make sure to ask. 

She looked to the person beside her, someone who’d said she’d teach her about the moon and added training to that. She’s also been nothing but kind, going as far as helping her with _crosesh_ when there was a word Vivi’d forgotten. She was also starting to teach her a few sigils. 

“It just gets hard when you’re actually sent after something,” Haseul sighed, “like vampires or wolves. Not even ones we should be chasing, but we’re the better trackers for that.” 

“How?” As far as Vivi knew, elves and fairies weren’t as fast as vampires. They also didn’t have as heightened senses as they did either. Most of them couldn’t twist someone else’s mind either. Vampires even had the ability to compel werewolves in their crazed state. Emotional fae were hurt by the sheer amount of rage in a wolf, while mental fae couldn’t sift through the chaos of their minds. 

“Like everything we have,” Haseul waved a hand, “we can follow the light. Or lack of it.” 

Vivi frowned. That didn’t seem to apply to all kinds of darkness. “Then why haven’t the scouting parties found that girl?” 

Green eyes flicked to hers, a brief flash of suspicion there, before it eased into something else. “You mean Hyejoo.” 

“I didn’t know we could say her name.” Vivi still didn’t quite understand the multiple name piece. Her own was simple. She had a name she’d used among the humans, because Viian didn’t quite flow off the tongue in some languages. 

“Depends who you ask.” Haseul smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s politically correct to call her Olivia, but Hyejoo’s her real name.” 

New questions came to her. What _exactly_ had happened? What reasoning could possibly justify banishing a girl who’d never possessed a particular magic? And where had the rest of them been? Was there any chance she’d be able to come back? Especially if she had the potential to help?

Vivi decided against asking them. It was a sore spot for many, but it seemed to be an especially sensitive topic for Haseul. The mention of Hyejoo exposed a crack in the usual strength that surrounded the girl. Vivi didn’t think it was weakness, but anger. Unlike Heejin, who let her anger show itself, Haseul was suppressing it. Either that, or the situation was a deep scar that hadn’t healed yet. And mentioning Hyejoo just brought that pain back. 

“We haven’t found her, because that type of darkness is different.” Haseul’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s like the fae magic used to disappear. I think.” 

Vivi smiled. “That’s a lot of uncertainty.” But she’d noticed it. As she’d gotten further away from Hyejoo, it’d gotten harder to pinpoint where she was. If she went looking for her, she’d have to rely on her stone magic. 

The rest didn’t have that. 

Haseul shrugged. “Anyone who gets that magic doesn’t get to stay. We can’t exactly learn from them.” There was bite to that statement. It lessened when she continued. “But to get back to it, we can sense the darkness that surrounds a vampire. You can sense spirits, whether they’re light or dark, and we can follow that same aura in the bloodsucker.”

Vivi glanced at the girl’s neck. The bite marks hadn’t faded yet. Other injuries she’d seen elves bear had healed faster than that. 

She looked at Haseul’s eyes to see that there wasn’t much spite there. All she saw was tiredness. Still, the animosity towards vampires was there. Vivi felt the same, most of the time, but even then, a lot of vampires were simply humans made immortal. Some took that immortality and enhanced strength to their heads, others lived through it with as much grace as a fairy did. 

Haseul caught her looking. “What’s on your mind?” 

“Vampires,” Vivi admitted. “They’re not all bad.”

“I know.” Haseul’s hand drifted upward before falling back down to her lap. “But most of the ones we see are,” she trailed off, “not great at all.” 

“And most of the ones I know aren’t too bad.” 

Haseul nodded. “I’d actually want to meet them, if they ever pass through, or you go visit them.” She sighed. “A lot of the time, I end up forgetting they were once human. I think those ones do too.” 

Vivi knew she should’ve replied to that, but she was halfway surprised by Haseul’s words. Not only was she admitting to dehumanising the vampires, but she wanted to broaden her perspective. And it seemed like she thought it was a normal thing. From what Vivi had seen of other elves, as well as fairies, they ended up dismissing the immortal humans. They either became enemies or nuisances. 

She was broken from her thoughts when Haseul turned to face her fully. There was a weird look in her eyes. It looked like she was sure of something, but didn’t like what she’d decided to do. 

“What do you wanna know?” 

“About?” 

“Anything,” she said. “Jungeun and the others, Yves and the other two, Hyejoo, the elders.” The corner of her lip twitched to the side. “You left because you found out something that happened a few decades ago. Maybe the next thing you find out was a century ago, or three.” 

Vivi liked that reasoning. It just made too much sense. Maybe she’d see another side to Haseul. The one that made her suited to be an elder. The one that was more politically inclined, more manipulative. 

“And what’ll you want me to tell you about my life?” 

The change in Haseul’s expression wasn’t smoothed over. It was just a genuine grimace. She was guilty about something. “Some of us can look into the past, a bit like how seers look into the future.” 

“Can you?” The prospect should’ve bothered Vivi, but it didn’t. It was probably because she’d grown up with people who could search her mind for whatever memories they wanted. It didn’t mean she welcomed it, but she’d had to get used to it. It was their fault if they didn’t like what they found. 

She shook her head. “Not that skilled,” she chuckled, “but I know people who have. And they looked.” 

Vivi wasn’t surprised. “If I had that ability, I’d have done the same.” 

Haseul raised a brow at her. “Really?” 

“Come on,” Vivi nudged her arm, “you can’t tell me you didn’t listen when they discussed my past.”

The smile she gave her was shy. “Alright, nosiness is also something we have.”

“For us, nosiness isn’t a bad thing,” she replied. “If you’re not curious about a person at all, you’re an idiot.” 

Haseul eyed her. “Right,” she leaned back on her elbows, “I know you’ve been in a fair amount of battles yourself, and that you’ve been among the humans quite a lot.” 

“And?”

“That’s most of what I heard,” she said, eyes turning back to the sky. 

“Most?” Vivi repeated. 

The shy smile returned. Vivi found she liked it on her. 

“Is it bad to say that some concerned themselves for the other people you’d, well, associated yourself with?” 

The way she said it was tentative. She raised an eyebrow as she looked from the sky and back to Vivi. 

“You mean my partners?” Vivi felt herself smile. 

Haseul returned it. “Were those the good vampires you meant?” 

“Yes,” she admitted. “But I knew better.” 

The green eyes looked away from her, but they were sparkling. 

Vivi’s smile grew. “Got any questions about that?”

Haseul didn’t reply. 

“I’ve some of my own.” Vivi rested on her back beside her. She gazed up at the stars. Some of the fairies had read them. Some humans did as well. She’d never bothered to know much about the star signs or anything else of that part of reality. 

Haseul looked down at her. The moon had made it so that the light was perfectly angled towards her. It caressed the side of her face, along her jaw and down her neck. It was a sight that was impossible for others, even if they were in front of a blazing fire. But the Astra called on moonlight like others drew breath. Even then, Vivi wasn’t sure if all of them looked like Haseul did beneath the moon. 

“What were those?” Haseul asked, her voice quiet. “My past or my partners?”

She was being surprisingly forward. Vivi wanted to be as well. She trusted Haseul enough that this wasn’t some elaborate ploy. The first few days of being with the Astra would’ve achieved that. The reveal of Hyejoo’s banishment might’ve shown that, had Haseul shown herself to be genuine. Hyejoo’s words had proved just that. 

“We can start with the past,” Vivi said. “And I’ll ask about the rest later.”

Her smile widened, while her eyes became crescents. Vivi wondered if the born-Astra actually embodied the moon instead of just being tied to it. She could easily imagine that Haseul was one of them. 

Then Haseul nodded. “I can tell you I’ve been involved with most of the battles that happened in my lifetime.” 

“Including the emotional fae?”

She started. “How did you,” then she shook her head, “sorry, should’ve known you knew this.” 

“It’s alright,” Vivi told her. It was a slip-up, considering the first encounter she’d had with the consequences had been Hyejoo and then Heejin. She’d known about it before, but only in passing. Like how she knew of the widespread disease in the west, but not how many humans had suffered because of it. 

Haseul just nodded. “Including that. I was young, relative to the rest at a fighting age. Same with Yves.” She didn’t say the name with disdain, even though Yves seemed to have been branded the villain by Heejin and Yeojin. “But we needed everyone we could get and they attacked suddenly. Even the seers hadn’t realised when exactly they’d get to us.” Her eyes darkened then. The relaxed slope to her shoulders had drooped into a tired sadness. It was an old sort of mourning. 

Vivi knew that look. Haseul had also lost someone close to her during that attack. She decided not to ask. Even if Haseul was allowing herself not to put up a complete front, that didn’t mean Vivi had got pry at what was left of it. 

Still, she sat up so that they were level. Haseul met her eyes once with a short nod. Then she looked to the forest, but not the moon. 

“We all lost,” she said. “But the person I think lost the most on that day was Chaewon.” A long pause. “It’s a sensitive topic all around, but I’d say never even mention it with her.” Guilt appeared in her eyes. 

Vivi nodded. It wasn’t hard to see that something bore down on Gowon’s mind and body. She looked tired most of the night and if no one was around her, there was a strangely haunted look in her eyes. It wasn’t one that had seen brutality, though Vivi didn’t doubt that she’d seen that too, but one that was stuck in the past. 

And she was one of the people Heejin seemed to hate the most. She was one of the people who’d turned away from Hyejoo. And yet she seemed to grieve that loss more than anyone else. 

“Why do they let you fight, even if you’re going to eventually be an elder?” Vivi thought of Heejin and how she’d struggled to even be allowed on patrol. 

Haseul laughed. “It was difficult at first,” she said. “After a while, it was fine.”

“You mean you forced them to accept it.”

Her eyes turned that brighter form of emerald green. “Well,” she trailed off, “maybe.” 

Vivi thought of a younger Haseul giving the elders a smile, a challenge in her eyes, urging them to stop her. 

If she needed any more reason to like the elf, she had it right there. 

She looked closer. She really was beautiful. Most of the women here, as well as those Vivi had known before, had long hair that fell well below their shoulders. The short hair made for a delicate frame around Haseul’s face. And then the way her eyes crinkled as she smiled—Vivi might’ve liked that most of all. 

“Got another question?” Haseul raised her brow. She was smiling, but it was still a gentle form of it. 

Vivi wondered if she should wrack her brain for an excuse. She decided against it. 

She shook her head. “Just thought of something.” 

“Care to tell?” She tilted her head to the side. 

“Later,” Vivi replied. “Promise.”

And she imagined she would. 

______

Jungeun had a dark look in her eyes. Jinsoul had seen it many times. She always wished she could take it away. 

She didn’t say anything. Instead, she went over to her.

Jungeun didn’t look up. She was focused on a spot on the floor. In her hands, a flame travelled up her fingers. 

Jinsoul put a hand to her cheek. Her skin was still so cold to the touch. Whenever she was in a state of mind like this, her skin would always be hot. 

She remembered a different day, one where she’d seen this same look in Jungeun’s eyes, but several times worse. She’d lost her mother and gone after the ones responsible. Jinsoul hadn’t seen the effects of her rage, but she had seen the emptiness and pain afterwards. The area around her had been reduced to ashes, including her clothes. Jungeun herself had been covered in ash and trembling, her tears having cleared thick trails down her face. 

Jinsoul had taken Jungeun to the water and the both of them had let the current wash them down. It’d cleared the ash away and brought Jungeun’s thoughts away from her revenge, away from her grief. It’d been a brief moment, but an escape nonetheless. 

Another day, Jungeun hadn’t burned down anything. She’d just sat in a clearing by herself, lost in thoughts that’d grown increasingly worse. She hadn’t wanted to speak to Jinsoul, but she also hadn’t turned her away. 

A week later, Jungeun had told her what had happened. She’d been sent after a mental fairy. They’d dug up every single suppressed memory of Jungeun’s and pushed it to the forefront. 

Jinsoul still didn’t know what half of those memories were. 

So now, she just brushed her thumb over Jungeun’s skin. 

Jungeun leaned into the touch. She didn’t want to be alone today. 

Jinsoul sat down and pulled Jungeun closer to her. Immediately, the other girl leaned her head on Jinsoul’s shoulder. 

“Hey,” Jungeun murmured. 

Jinsoul smiled. “Hi.” She brushed a hand through her hair. She gave Jungeun some light. She wished she could help her warm up better. 

Jungeun let out a long breath through her nose. The flame in her hands disappeared. 

She wanted to ask what happened, what was going through Jungeun’s thoughts, and what she could do to help. 

She didn’t. All Jinsoul could do for her now was sit here. 

The look of defeat in Jungeun’s eyes clawed at Jinsoul. While Jungeun had come far from the person she’d once been, she hadn’t lost this part of her. A part filled with cuts and gashes from the past. 

Those cuts had healed, but Jungeun had sealed them with fire. In turn, the scars she’d left were jagged and far from faded. 

“You know how I got this?” Jungeun lifted a hand to her chest. Her brow twitched as she did. Did it hurt when pressure was applied? That would change how they needed to handle this. 

Jinsoul pushed those thoughts away. It wasn’t about healing the darkness. It was about listening. So she said nothing, but squeezed Jungeun’s arm. 

“When that fairy tried to kill us,” she faltered. “She stabbed him. Missed his heart, so he was taking a while to go.” Her brow furrowed and she shook her head. “Sorry.” 

Jinsoul didn’t need to ask what she was sorry for. Jungeun could talk about violence and her past as if it was completely detached from her. She never spoke about it like it was: trauma. 

“So I took out what she used for it. It was cold, colder than most spirits are,” she sighed, “it sped up the process, but she doesn’t know it was me who killed him.” 

Jinsoul didn’t respond. She took one of Jungeun’s now warm hands in her own. That warmth was only from the fire. It’d fade soon. 

Most of them had killed. In a long life where other groups and species were either allies or enemies, it was almost inevitable. 

Jinsoul had always been the healer. Her experience with fighting was small. She was more than happy that it was. 

But if you had the magic and ability for it, then you fought more. Jungeun’s magic was fire, something always thought to be destructive, and she’d always been ready to use it and a blade. So she’d been the designated warrior for her old clan and the Astra.

It’d be a lie to say that fighting for one’s people didn’t take its toll. For many, it was still an honour. It was one for Jungeun, but she bore the burden more than she thought she did. 

If one paid attention, they saw that burden. And Jinsoul had only ever seen Jungeun with that burden. She didn’t know the person she’d been before then. Her father didn’t talk much about that. He was just as entrenched in battle as she was. 

“If we see her again,” Jungeun sighed, “She might need to talk.” She took a shaky breath. “She didn’t want to kill someone who deserved it, but she did here.” 

“She’ll still think back on it,” Jinsoul finished. 

“She isn’t a killer.”

Jinsoul fought a frown. She pushed down words she’d said to her time and time again. 

_You’re not a killer._

This was about Hyejoo, not Jungeun. 

“No, she isn’t,” Jinsoul tilted Jungeun’s head to look at her, “and when we see her again, we’ll make sure she knows that.” 

Red eyes closed. “That fairy was sent here to finish the kill,” she said. “And we sent him back. Dead.” Her eyes opened. “What happens if they want their revenge?” 

“We could go to her,” Jinsoul said. 

Jungeun grimaced. “And if they come here?” Worry filled her features. “He was going for Yerim and me.” Her voice had dropped to a whisper. “She was the one who stopped him. I don’t think we would’ve stood much of a chance.” 

Meaning, Yerim had seen in that moment what would’ve happened. 

So there were two options: Alluin would come after Hyejoo or he’d come for them. Was he even strong enough for that? It’d been centuries since his own banishment. Had someone trained him? And who had _he_ found? Were they all like Hyejoo? Or had they sought him out, because he let you steal and murder for money? 

It struck her then that Jungeun, Yerim, and other non-Astra could’ve become a part of that group. Jinsoul included. Had Jungeun not braved the storm of the Astra’s suspicion, she could’ve easily left. Would Alluin have tried to recruit her then? 

And if he had, he would’ve had one of the best warriors of the elves. If he had someone like that on his side, then attacking the Astra head-on was an option. 

Jinsoul pulled Jungeun closer to her side. She drew in more light, trying to make her body warmer. 

“Whatever happens, we’ll do what we can,” she whispered. Maybe they’d even get other elves involved. 

“And if they want a fight?” Jungeun looked up at her, eyes wide with concern. It was surprisingly vulnerable. She understood that look too. _I don’t want to fight_. Not this time. 

Jinsoul felt her heart clench at the sight. She knew that if it came to it, Jungeun would still go out and protect them with all she had. As much as they criticised the Astra, as much as the Astra criticised her, the lunar elves were family. Jungeun honoured that just as much as Jinsoul, Choerry, and any other non-Astra did. 

“Unless our peacemakers succeed, we’ll do what we have to.”

“We?” Jungeun stiffened. 

“If you think I’m letting you go out there alone, think again.” 

“We need you here.” 

Jinsoul nudged her side. “I’m not the only healer here.”

“You’re the best one we have,” Jungeun muttered. She spoke _arcesh_. 

The words made something in Jinsoul’s chest lighter. Jungeun had spent the early years trying to learn the language of Jinsoul’s people. Until then, she’d used her broken _arcesh_ to make Jinsoul laugh at the accent and grammatical mistakes. 

And then she could say things like that, in a gentle voice that let all potential tension between them dissipate. 

It was always hard to argue with Jungeun. Jinsoul knew well enough that Jungeun’s occasional hot-headedness had led to her being in several disagreements, so she was able to argue and stay in those conflicts. Except that never seemed to apply to Yerim, Jinsoul, or the other people Jungeun took responsibility for. She knew what to say then. She knew when to be patient and when to put on pressure. 

“You can let that go to your head.” Jungeun tucked her head into the crook of Jinsoul’s neck. 

Jinsoul had to laugh. She pressed her cheek to the top of her head. Something had eased in her. She wasn’t sure if it was Jungeun’s presence or because she could freely say she was free of her healing duties today. 

“I’m serious,” Jungeun said. “It’s well deserved.”

Jinsoul didn’t reply. Jungeun never failed to praise her when she could. A part of her loved it. The other just wanted Jungeun to accept the same amount of compliments, to see herself in the same light she saw Jinsoul, Yerim, and Haseul. 

“How’s Yerim? I went to her earlier, but she was asleep. Then Yeojin forced me back here.” Jungeun laughed softly. “I won’t tell her this, but Haseul’s rubbing off on her.”

 _Like you’re rubbing off on Yerim_ , she thought. She was still torn between being proud and worried. She couldn’t think of a better person for Yerim to look up to. The only drawback was that said person was reckless in her heroism. 

“Tired?” 

Jinsoul realised then that she hadn’t said a word. 

“A bit,” she admitted. 

Jungeun hummed once. “Stuck in your head?” She didn’t look up at her. That meant she wasn’t planning on pressing her. 

Jinsoul tugged her a bit closer. “A little.”

“Yerim’ll be getting help soon,” she said. “And it hasn’t been spreading. Hyunjin’s also doing better than I thought she’d be.” Pause. “So if that’s on your mind, everything’ll be okay there.”

“And how’re you?”

Jungeun didn’t respond. She hadn’t expected Jinsoul to ask after that. She usually didn’t. 

All that she knew about Jungeun’s current state was that she was unable to get warm. She didn’t know how it actually felt. If this was Hyejoo’s darkness, then it probably felt very different to the darkness of spirits. Jinsoul had had darkness in her heart once before. It felt like a lead weight had settled there and it let negative thoughts spiral more easily than anything positive could. 

Jungeun was still full of reassurance and could still make light of things, but Jinsoul couldn’t help but think of the look from earlier. Maybe her darker thoughts were coming to the forefront much more than they should have been. 

And she wasn’t planning on telling Jinsoul about any of that. 

That didn’t sting. It was just another reminder of how much Jungeun still kept to herself. 

Jungeun was quiet. The flame was back in her hands. It twirled around her fingers. Jungeun still believed that her fire magic was only ever good for destruction. Even when she could wield a flame as delicately as this, she thought it was only ever good for battle. 

Jinsoul took the hand that wasn’t controlling fire. Her skin was cool again. 

“It’s like always,” Jungeun said. “Not great, but I’m used to it by now.”

“You’re not supposed to be used to that.” 

“But I am,” she retorted, a harshness to her voice. It softened immediately. The darkness _was_ affecting her. Either someone became irritable or heavy with sadness, sometimes even a grief that wasn’t their own. “It’s just something we’ll have to wait out.” 

_We_. Jungeun was including Jinsoul in that. She’d have to accept that Jinsoul wouldn’t just be waiting it out. 

Jinsoul lifted her hand and pressed it to the centre of Jungeun’s chest. It was exceptionally cold. 

She stiffened, but didn’t push her away. 

Jinsoul focused the light she had into her hand. She let it go straight to Jungeun’s heart. 

They stayed like that for a while. Jungeun didn’t say anything, nor did she move. Jinsoul only felt the slow motion of her chest as she breathed. She felt her steady heart rate. 

Something stirred in Jinsoul’s own chest. For a moment, she wondered if the darkness over Jungeun’s heart had loosened. She didn’t take her hand away. If she was going to get a portion of it, she would. 

And then Jungeun closed a hand over Jinsoul’s. “I think that’s enough.” 

“Did it help?” Jinsoul asked. She didn’t stop giving her light. She started feeling cold, but that didn’t matter. She’d ease that with a simple drink of water. Jungeun didn’t have that luxury. 

Now Jungeun raised her head. Their foreheads were just a small distance away from touching. Jinsoul nearly pressed them together. It was the equivalent of a hug for some fairies. She didn’t do that now. Sometimes Jungeun let herself be open to lasting touches, others she pulled back. Jinsoul still didn’t understand why, but she’d never worked up the courage to ask. 

“It doesn’t hurt anymore,” Jungeun whispered. “So you can stop.” She gently pulled Jinsoul’s hand away, but she didn’t let go. 

So the darkness had been hurting her. Elre had been in agony in the days leading up to her death. Jinsoul still remembered trying to numb that pain with a mixture of her light and other mixtures for the pain. Nothing had worked. 

Jinsoul pushed the memory of Elre’s lifeless body from her head. “Don’t be stubborn.” 

“I could say the same to you.” 

Jinsoul frowned at her. 

Jungeun smiled. “I feel better now.” 

There still wasn’t a glow in her eyes and her skin was still cold. 

But she was smiling. 

Jungeun squeezed her hand. “And I’ll be okay.” 

Jinsoul wanted to say that they didn’t know that yet, but the warmth in Jungeun’s eyes kept the words from coming. She could go back and forth with Jungeun for hours on something. It was never productive, but neither of them cared. Either it was the amount that Jinsoul worked or the amount of time Jungeun spent on patrol. Jinsoul usually avoided bringing up Jungeun’s recklessness, while Jungeun didn’t press her on what she gave up when healing. 

Both of them rarely gave up, because they usually believed in what they were saying wholeheartedly. Someone from the outside probably wouldn’t know who to side with. And sometimes neither of them would let the other win, not when it was about something related to the other’s wellbeing or safety. 

“Should we go sleep?” Jungeun asked. Her head was on Jinsoul’s shoulder again. Her voice sounded lighter. 

“Not yet?” Jinsoul closed her eyes. “I love it here.” _With you_ , she added silently. To say that aloud would ruin the comfortable air between them. And of course, Jungeun wasn’t ready for that. Even if Jinsoul was. 

“Me too,” Jungeun murmured. “It’s quiet. You’re warm.” She sighed, a relieved sound. “Perfect.” 

Her stomach flipped at that. Jinsoul wondered if immortality let them be immeasurably wise or just stay permanent disasters. Some people counted as both. 

And then there was Jungeun. 

Jinsoul fought a sigh and cleared her mind of that. She decided then and there that she’d just enjoy the rest of the night. Even if it was spent in silence, even if the person next to her was cold, things were, as Jungeun had said, perfect. 

Well, it was missing one thing, but she didn’t think about that. 

______

The darkness had wrapped the vampires in a shroud. 

Except that didn’t say much. Vampires were a product of something darker. They needed blood to survive. Not the blood of animals, but that of people. That included elves just as much as it did humans. Many vampires even preferred elves and fairies. Some hunted them. 

Olivia let the shadows come to her now. Their embrace was as reassuring as it was cold. She felt how a portion curled around her hand. It wanted to solidify. It wanted to become a weapon. One she could drive into their hearts. 

She didn’t let it. She needed to see what they were. And to do that, she’d see what they were going to do next. 

Some vampires could lose control, even if they were ten years old. Be it the way the moon was positioned, a curse from a witch, or an overwhelming sense of hunger, a vampire could be blinded by their bloodlust. 

It was the responsibility of other vampires, fairies, elves, and, as she’d learned, witches to bring them under control. Sometimes that involved trapping them and clearing their head of that bloodlust. Other times, it meant killing them. 

Most of the time, the elves barely distinguished it. Unless they clearly saw the madness, or recognised that the vampire was a newborn and couldn’t control themselves. Some Astra could know the age of a person just by knowing how many moons they’d seen. 

Looking into the future of a vampire could also help. Most seers couldn’t sift through the darkness that naturally surrounded blood-suckers, but those who could were able to see if they’d bring more death. 

And then there were the few Astra who could delve deeper into a person’s past. They could catch glimpses of both their mortal life and immortal one. And sometimes that’d let them know if the vampire had _wanted_ to kill, or if they’d just been overcome by the _need_ to drink.

Yves had been able to do that. They’d restrain the vampire and let her search their past. Then she’d told Chuu what she’d seen. From there, they’d been able to decide if the vampire should live or not. Sometimes they’d been in agreement. Others, Chuu had urged her to let them live. 

Olivia closed her eyes. The thought of those two pulled at the darkness more than seeing the vampires did. And she couldn’t look into a vampire’s past, nor their future. She could only see what was there. And that told her enough. 

She reached for the vampires instead. Not so much that they’d notice a change, but enough so that she could actually sift through the darkness around them. She’d needed to do that with those like her, both when Alluin had trained her and not. She’d learned to distinguish between the darkness the naturally clung to a person, either due to their past, or their very existence. Anyone who controlled darkness was enveloped in it. That didn’t mean they were full of anger. You saw if they were once you looked past their magic. 

In the case of Alluin, there was rage and hatred. In Olivia, the same was there, but it was joined by fear. He’d attacked that about her then. Others had too. 

She gritted her teeth and forced herself to focus. She needed to keep the vampires in her line of sight, but she couldn’t get any closer than she was. They’d hear her coming. And if she did something else wrong, they’d also smell her. If they were newborns, or hungry, that would just make them come to her. Even if they were neither, they’d probably also start hunting her. She wasn’t sure if she wanted that to happen yet. 

Within the darkness, she found what separated the four vampires. Two were surrounded by a lot of fear. One was surrounded by both anger and fear. The fourth had anger, but also murder. 

And two of them had more darkness than the other two. It wasn’t evil, but more neutral. Alluin had said that was tied to their immortality. 

So she was dealing with newborns and most likely their creators. That made it complicated. Two wouldn’t know better, while the other two were supposed to restrain their urges. 

It also meant that the newborns would fight erratically, while the elder ones were experienced. From what she saw, they also wouldn’t think twice of trying to kill her if she approached them. Olivia would probably be the first elf the newborns saw. Specifically, she’d be the first elf they’d want to taste. 

She nearly gagged at the thought. Vampire venom drained a person. And she still remembered the feeling of her blood flowing into someone else’s mouth. She remembered how they’d moaned at the taste of her. 

She also remembered ripping him away from her throat, nearly tearing it out in the process. She’d cut his head off. 

Olivia let the darkness come to her. It eagerly sank into her skin, cooling her entirely. The shadows were neither full or fear, nor anger. They just were. When Olivia wielded them, she almost always felt calm. Sometimes she even felt safe. 

Now, she just focused on what would come now. She saw that the focus of the elder vampires was stretched out ahead of them. That same darkness had been going towards Yerim and Jungeun. She’d seen that be directed at her too. It always meant someone would die. 

Olivia gathered up some mud. She made sure her fingertips were properly coated and began to smear it along her arms. To a human, the circular markings would’ve looked random. To a fairy, they would’ve meant: _hidden, safe_. To Hyejoo, it meant that her scent and footsteps would be hidden away 

The spell didn’t last long, especially not when Hyejoo was in the shadows, but she needed both. The fae magic would keep her hidden for most of the way there. The shadows would keep her mind sharp and strengthen her body. The longer she spent there, the easier the darkness came when called. 

Once the scent of forests became overwhelming, she knew the spell had taken form. 

Olivia set off at a run, her feet making no sound as they pushed off the dirt and gnarled roots. 

The presence of the vampires left a sweet taste in her mouth. It was something that always came, despite the vampires themselves not having a scent like that. She wondered if that was a part of their magic, one meant to make you trust them, make you open your neck to them. 

It didn’t work. 

The moment the cloaking spell fell away, Olivia felt their attention snap to her. The darkness of death began to reach towards her. She saw that same darkness stretch away from her. It encircled the vampires. 

“What is that?” a high voice asked. It was a girl. Young by the sound of it, but that didn’t mean much. 

“An elf,” a velvety one replied. “You’ll like this.”

“They’re after us,” a low voice shot back. Nervousness made it tremble. “Shouldn’t we—”

“Only one,” another said. She had a sweet voice with a slight drawl to it. “That’s an opportunity. We’ll wait.” 

Even before her magic had come, Olivia had found a strange sort of pride in being underestimated. Other Astra had rarely expected her to outmatch them in strength, while the elves and fairies who’d attacked had known she was the one without magic. They’d overlooked her. And then she’d been able to strike. 

The first person she’d killed had been a fairy. Not the one who’d murdered her parents, but she’d treated him as if she had. She still had nightmares where that same fairy laughed at her. Other nights, she relived the moment she’d driven a blade into his stomach. 

Again, Olivia forced the past from her mind. In the present, she reached for the vampires’ shadows. Then she gave them a gentle push. 

She felt their alarm. Then she saw them. 

Two women. Two men. One of them had had an eager smile. It was now a snarl. 

She tightened her grip on their shadows, holding them where they stood. 

“Let us go,” the woman on the left said. She was the one with the sweet voice. 

Olivia felt her magic. It tugged at her, but didn’t bend her will. Unlike others, she didn’t need the spells or sigils to shield her mind. She didn’t know why, only that the darkness protected her. 

She took some relish in the shock that filled the vampire’s eyes. 

So she twisted their shadows. Each of their legs gave out beneath them. The younger vampires fell to their hands and knees. The other two forced themselves to remain upright. 

Olivia knew what she needed to do. Take the lives of two and leave the younger ones alive. They’d struggle to control their thirst, but they would know they needed to. 

But she remained where she was. She saw them crumble to dust before her. That was what always happened when a vampire died. 

And yet they were still before her, eyes either wide with fear, or narrowed with fury. 

Then one of them lunged. He was the oldest. The one so full of anger. 

She tried to push him back, letting the shadows jump towards him. 

He gasped, but he’d already come too far. 

Olivia’s back met the ground in the next moment. Her chest felt as if it’d caved in. She couldn’t even scream. 

But a scream still filled her ears. 

The vampire was no longer on top of her. He was staring at his hands. The fingertips were coated in darkness. Black tendrils were quickly travelling across his skin. 

Olivia knew her grip on the other three had lessened. They would know it soon enough. 

She forced her magic to enter her ribs, numbing them. Hopefully healing them as well, but she couldn’t rely on that. 

She forced herself to her feet and seized the vampire by his throat. 

He shrieked when her skin met his. He was almost warm to the touch. 

She made a ring of darkness around his neck. Then she forced him to the ground. He writhed across the ground, trying to rip it off. 

Olivia knew it wouldn’t loosen. No matter what strength he had. 

The other elder vampire took a step forward. 

Olivia didn’t hesitate when she made her shadow impale the vampire’s legs. She didn’t flinch when she heard her agonised cries. 

One of the newborns broke free then. He tried to run away, still slowed by his shadow. She made a wall of darkness appear in front of him. He slammed into it, but it didn’t shatter. Olivia’s grip on it still faltered. It disappeared, but the vampire was stunned. 

“Move and you die,” she told the second newborn. She had dark blue eyes. They were filled with terror. 

The girl didn’t say anything now. Olivia wondered if she’d even heard it, but the vampire didn’t move. Not even when she let go of her shadow. 

She dragged the other newborn over to her. Something in Olivia’s chest felt as if it was being tugged the wrong way. She ignored it. Her chest would heal soon. 

It only took one look for the newborn to shrink away from her. He wouldn’t be moving either. 

When she turned her attention to the elder vampires, one of them was whimpering, bent over her legs. The skin was completely overcome by shadows. 

Olivia took it all away. It left two legs ruined by blood. 

The vampire also didn’t move, but she did look at Olivia with tear-filled eyes. They were slowly filling with fear as well. 

“You’re her.” 

So even the vampires had heard of her. Was it the title of the wraith? Or the demon? 

She didn’t ask and went over to the last vampire. She hooked her fingers beneath the darkness around his neck and forced him to look at her. The blood vessels in his eyes were black instead of red. She took some of the darkness away. Whatever memories she’d trapped him in would fade. 

“We’re h-hunting,” the female vampire said, her velvety voice now rough. “ _Just_ hunting.” 

“I believe you,” Olivia replied. “But hunting is done with care. You don’t kill every deer you come across.” She stepped forward, sneering when the vampire leaned away. “And you hunt with the intent to feed. Not the desire to kill.” 

The male vampire spat at her. How he managed to recover so quickly from the darkness was almost admirable. “Don’t tell me you think their little lives are valuable.” 

Olivia didn’t respond. 

This was where this came from. It didn’t happen for all vampires, but there were a fair amount who forgot that they’d once been human. They forgot that human life could be just as fulfilling, sometimes more fulfilling, than their own. 

From there, humans became worthless. That was where the danger came. That was where mass killings became accepted. 

She finally let the darkness become a blade in her hands. 

She watched the vampire’s face as it scraped his shoulder. She watched the realisation settle in. His eyes grew wide. Then she pulled the blade back. 

And stabbed him in the heart. 

No one screamed in pain at losing him. They just flinched. 

The eldest of the three tried to crawl away, cries leaving her lips as she moved on ruined legs. 

Olivia walked over. She rested the blade on the side of her neck. 

The vampire froze. She looked up at Olivia. She was trembling. 

“Please,” she gasped, “let me live.” 

Olivia held her gaze. “Why?”

Her eyes widened. “What do you mean why?” The fear in her got stronger. 

“Why shouldn’t I?” She pressed the sword into her neck. “You had your newborns murder those people. You’re trying to teach them it’s right.” She glanced at the other two then. They weren’t pleading for the vampire’s life. Had they felt a proper connection, wouldn’t they be? 

“You’ve been sucking the life out of the humans just as we have,” the vampire snapped. “How are you any different?”

“I’m very different.” Olivia smiled at her. “And those stories aren’t true.”

A flicker of confusion came about. Then Olivia killed her. 

She knew the dust of both vampires still clung to her clothes. She decided against brushing it off. 

She turned to the other vampires next. They hadn’t run. 

Olivia felt a pang of guilt when both newborns flinched away from her. She pushed it down. 

“Remember this feeling,” she said softly. “This is what those people felt when you attacked them. They were powerless to your hunger, to your strength.” She looked to the boy. Surprisingly, he didn’t look away. “Just as easily as you did, I could end both your lives,” she nodded to the ashes, “but you’re still young enough to be better than that.” 

Neither said a word. Neither of them moved. 

“There are covens all across the country,” Olivia told them. “Vampires who’ll teach you to control your thirst instead of giving into it.” 

“Jae—he said that it didn’t matter,” the boy said. 

“It does,” Olivia replied. “You make your kills obvious, you kill more than you have to, and others will follow.” 

“Like you,” the girl muttered. She still looked afraid, but seemed to have understood that Olivia wasn’t going to kill them. 

It had been that same fear that’d kept the two from trying to fight her. That’d saved their lives. It also spoke for how they’d react in these situations. If anyone went into a craze because of fear, they made themselves a threat. Most people didn’t react well if faced with a threat. Olivia was one of them. 

“Like me.” Olivia nodded. She took the darkness that’d seeped into both, as well as some of the one that corresponded to fear. While it made her feel colder, she didn’t feel the fear itself. 

But she watched as they both relaxed somewhat. Then the brow of the boy furrowed. 

“Why spare us?” he asked. “Aren’t we more dangerous?”

Olivia wanted to retort that she wasn’t the person they should be asking. She wasn’t the person who was supposed to give them any insight. 

But she was the only one there. 

_Bring them here if they survive._

They had. 

“There’s a witch. She’s the one who sent me after you.” Olivia forced the darkness to either go back to the shadows or deeper within herself. “I can bring you to her. She wanted to help you.” 

“They said witches don’t help us,” the girl said. “They enslave us.”

“Not this one,” Olivia replied. “She knows the vampires in that area better than I do. Ones we can coexist with.”

“The ones who’ll train us, you mean.” The boy was still frowning. 

“The ones who’ll stop you murdering people who don’t deserve to die,” she said sharply. 

That shut both up. Olivia had expected them to ask her if the other two had deserved to die. Maybe that wasn’t the main question on their mind. 

And when she turned around, she nearly expected them to tackle her and try to drink her blood. They didn’t. They just followed. 

Olivia hoped this wouldn’t wear off once they got to town, closer to humans. She just had to rely on this sudden restraint lasting a bit longer. Then it’d be out of her hands. 

The girl broke the silence once. “Why’d you let us live? How do you know we won’t end up like them?”

Olivia wanted to tell her that wasn’t the wisest question to ask someone like her. When she looked back, she just saw that the girl was frowning at her. She genuinely wanted to know. Where had the self-awareness come from? 

She needed a different response. Something better than, _you’ll learn how to not rip everyone’s throat out._

“I let you live, because I know neither of you actually wanted to kill those people,” Olivia told them. “Neither of you are monsters.” _But I am_ , she thought. 

The vampires didn’t ask her anything else. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps a bit of a mismatched chapter, but I hope the way the parts mixed together was relatively cohesive. The hardest bit to write for me was actually the exchange between Vivi and Haseul. They’ve got a unique dynamic in this story as it’s not bogged down by the past. 
> 
> As for Olivia’s section, I’ve got a story where vampires are in the forefront, so it’s been a bit strange to write them from a very different point of view. It follows the line of thought where power can truly corrupt, as well as time spent a bit detached from the troubles of normal life. Still, not everything’s lost, I’d hope. 
> 
> I hope you're all well and healthy. See you in the next chapter. 


	25. Holes

Hyunjin was back on the cliff again. She was starting to hate it. She wasn’t supposed to move much. The light she got was supposed to go to her heart, not any of her strength. That was something that didn’t speak for the Astra. If they didn’t have any light, they were weak. Even though it was rare, if anyone attacked them, they did it during the day and when the moon was either gone, or in its late or early stages. 

Hyunjin felt that weakness now, but so much more pronounced. She had no light at all. Briefly, she wondered what would happen if she had no light whatsoever. Hyejoo had lived most of her life that way. She’d found ways around it. 

But what happened when if you suddenly lost that part? What would Hyunjin do if everything she did was based on the light? Every good and bad thing she’d done had been through the light. Without it, would she be of any use? Would she hunt animals instead of spirits? Would she become a messenger, instead of going on patrol or even guard? 

She shook her head. She’d had this before. When she’d first come into contact with a bright spirit, she’d lost the light for a day. That’d been terrifying, but Yooa had reassured her that it would returned. And it had. 

This had lasted several days and she wasn’t feeling any signs of it coming back. Still, she needed to hope. The light did give her some relief. She was still tied to it in some way. She had to hope that connection would strengthen. 

“Did you already eat?” 

That voice. It still eased the tension in Hyunjin’s shoulders. It still made her want to smile. 

It also reminded her of days filled only with one other person, when they’d spoken about all that they loved. That had included each other. 

Hyunjin stiffened. She wouldn’t smile. She wouldn’t relax. They couldn’t talk about that stuff anymore. 

“Yes,” she said. “And I don’t need anything else.”

“I didn’t bring anything,” Heejin replied. 

“But you would’ve gone back,” Hyunjin finished. And gotten her exactly what she liked. Her tastes hadn’t changed much in the past century. Neither had her feelings. 

Her stomach twisted. She hated that she hadn’t changed how she’d wanted to. She’d hardened over the years, but that was all. She’d only grown a better shell. She hadn’t been able to grow any stronger otherwise. 

There were footsteps, gentle and tentative. Heejin was coming closer. 

Already, Hyunjin could feel the ease that threatened to overcome her. Another reminder that it would be so _easy_. She could fall back into laughter and smiles, even embraces. Heejin wouldn’t oppose it. She’d welcome it. And so would Hyunjin. 

_But no one else would_ , she told herself. As always, the thought filled her with disappointment. It brought back the pain of having a love she couldn’t pursue. She was almost pulled into a state of self-pity. 

Hyunjin drove those feelings down. She just thought of wanting to be alone. 

“What’re you doing here?” She didn’t look up. Meeting Heejin’s eyes just made it worse. 

“You need as much light as you can get.”

“I don’t need it,” Hyunjin said. “So if there’s something else you need to do, then do it.”

“Am I not allowed to be here?” Heejin asked, a hint of defensiveness creeping in. 

“What do you think?” Hyunjin snapped. “We’re not going to be training until this is over.” She didn’t bother hiding her scowl. 

If the tone had hurt her, there was no sign of it. “So what now, I can’t see how you are? I can’t give you what I can spare?” It was the voice she used in discussions. The one she used when she was pretending. 

“I’m being helped already,” she said. “And there’re others. You’re not visiting any of them.” She sighed. “People notice.” Why could Heejin not notice that herself? Did she just not care? 

“You’re worse off than them,” Heejin replied. “The others are healing.” 

Hyunjin spotted worry then. She looked away. “I’m feeling better. The healing’ll come later.” 

No response, but Hyunjin knew she was trying to think of one. She knew Heejin’s brow would be furrowed. She knew the exact sort of doubt and concern that would be looking back at her. 

“Honest,” Hyunjin said. “Stop worrying.” _And stop coming here_. 

Briefly, she wished she could let Heejin stay. She wished she could accept whatever soft looks would be sent her way. She still couldn’t believe that there was still room in Heejin’s heart for her. 

Then she chided herself for that. When she’d realised that Heejin loved her as much as she did her, she’d been ecstatic. And that joy still lingered. She knew Heejin had loved her. She knew she still did in some way or another. Hyunjin still loved her, just as much as she had then. 

And that shouldn’t have been. 

There was a small glow to the side. Hyunjin watched as a large piece of light was laid down beside her. 

“Don’t tell me you don’t need it. The healers say you need a lot more than you’re getting.” 

“You don’t have to be the one to give me that.”

“So should I get Arin?” Heejin asked. 

Hyunjin looked at her. The tone of voice irked her. She didn’t know why. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“I’m not blind, Hyunjin,” she replied. “And I have ears too.” The hurt was very clear in her eyes. 

Hyunjin scoffed. “I’m not sure if you’re allowed to be jealous here.” It wasn’t fair. Heejin was bound to someone else. As far as Hyunjin knew, there was no one. She was almost glad. It wouldn’t be fair to them. 

Heejin flinched. It made Hyunjin regret her words, but she bit back her apology. 

“I’m glad if you have someone,” she said slowly. “So I can go get her if it makes you feel better.” 

“You don’t have to get anyone.” Hyunjin forced herself to look up at the sky. She wished Heejin would go. She needed her to leave. Years of frustration were bubbling up. No one was supposed to see that, least of all Heejin. “I just need to be alone.” 

She wanted to tell her that Arin was a friend. Someone she was occasionally closer to than a friend. Hyunjin could see them being more, if she wasn’t constantly reminded of someone else. 

But she couldn’t say that. She couldn’t say anything that would heal the distance between them. 

“I’ll go,” Heejin said. “But take the light first.” She pushed the moonlight closer. Hyunjin could feel its warmth. She longed to reach for it. “It’ll at least get rid of the cold.”

The unyielding gentleness in her voice. The way it was genuine now and not joined with forced patience. Something in her snapped. 

“I don’t need your help,” Hyunjin snarled. She took it and threw it away. It hit a tree with a sharp crack. “I didn’t when I left and I don’t now.” 

Heejin didn’t reply, but she was looking at her. She hardly seemed phase. 

It filled Hyunjin with two different feelings. One wanted to smile at Heejin’s patience. The other wanted to yell for her to leave her alone. 

She did neither. 

“Please take it.” Heejin held out her hand. The moonlight floated onto her palm. It'd broken into two pieces. “Or I’ll get someone else to come, but that’ll take longer.” She was avoiding her eyes. 

Hyunjin looked at it. It was too much. She shouldn’t have been receiving the half of it. 

She put her hand on top of one piece and drew in half of that. It warmed her immediately. She felt the weight in her chest lighten. It was as if she could breathe again. Not even the light in the waterskins was able to do that. 

“Thanks,” she said, taking her hand away. “Keep the rest. Or give it to Jinsoul for the others who’ll need it.”

Heejin didn’t look like she agreed. Of course she didn’t. But she took the light back. Her eyes glowed brighter, as did her skin. It made her look more ethereal than normal. 

Hyunjin looked away. Her eye caught on something. 

In the distance, a subtle surge of light took form. 

Hyunjin watched it. The figure held a mixture of darkness and light. The darkness wasn’t anything dangerous. If anything, it seemed a lot like what the benevolent dark spirits held. And the light was always gentle, never too bright. 

She knew exactly who it belonged to. 

“Darie’s here,” she said. 

Heejin followed her gaze. She’d still been looking at Hyunjin. 

“Let’s go see her.” She got to her feet. Her hand stretched out, before it fell. 

Hyunjin pushed herself to her feet. What she’d said to Heejin before came back to her. How she'd actedd...

She’d been unfair. She’d let the darkness get the best of her. And she’d snapped. 

She was tempted to apologise, but it looked like Heejin was focusing on reuniting with the fairy. 

So Hyunjin started walking in that direction. Maybe it was better if she didn’t apologise. Maybe it was better not to correct Heejin about Arin. 

She wasn’t sure. And she didn’t want to think about that now. 

_____

Haseul knelt down, plucking a few herbs. She looked over to Yeojin’s side to see her squinting between two different plants. 

“Right is the one for the sleeping draught,” she told her. “Left one stings. We don’t need those.”

Yeojin took from the right one and put it in her bag. 

They were gathering for Yerim’s elixirs. The potency of naturally grown crops was usually more than her own, so Yerim always ended up gathering by herself. Usually, gathering was left to Jungeun and Jinsoul. 

But Jinsoul was tending to the next round of the injured, while Jungeun didn’t have enough light to be away from camp. 

Yerim had planted several different areas with the plants she wanted. She’d never left them in one place. Apparently, that took up too much of the energy within the earth. They also had to be further away from camp for that reason. Haseul had never understood that, but she hadn’t questioned it either. Jinsoul had explained that the effect was actually there when compared to the plants within the camp. It didn’t apply to fruits or vegetables, only herbs with ‘magical’ properties. 

That meant that most of the gathering just involved going to the little outcroppings of Yerim’s massive garden. 

Yeojin had volunteered to do it. Haseul had had the time to go with her. They hadn’t done much together in a few months. 

“How’d you do it before?” Yeojin asked. She was moving on to the little bush with leaves and strange looking berries. The leaves were mixed into potions. The berries were used for a healing salve. How Choerry had kept all of this in her head was a mystery to Haseul. All she knew was which ones were the most important. And that was all they needed to gather tonight. 

“Before Yerim?” She straightened, stretching out her back. Her body was capable of a lot, kneeling on the ground, bent over several plants, wasn’t included. She’d have to work on that. “We traded much more than we do now. It got less when Jinsoul came, but we get by even better when Yerim came along.” That wasn’t the only thing the two brought, but Haseul was sure Yeojin knew full well why it was good to have the two here. 

“So the light doesn’t really heal everything?” Yeojin’s voice was level. Haseul didn’t know what to make of that. 

“No,” she said. “We survive a lot, but we still need help.” 

Yeojin didn’t respond. She was just looking at the ground now, an unreadable look on her face. 

Haseul put a hand on her shoulder. “We should get to the next area.”

Yeojin stood, but the movement was slow. “Did you ever think the moon knew that they’d help us this much?” she asked. “All three of them. Jungeun’s patrols and protection, Jinsoul’s healing, and Yerim’s magic?”

And that was a tricky question, one that went straight into what you believed the moon was capable of, even what exactly it was. Some believed it was sentient, others thought it was just a force of nature, like time. Haseul was stuck somewhere in the middle. 

“I didn’t know why they got the light,” Haseul admitted. “Why were we born into the Astra and not a different clan?” 

Yeojin started walking. The light around her had dimmed. 

“What’s bringing this on?” Haseul asked. She wished she could take her hand, but Yeojin wasn’t in the mood. She just needed to let out her thoughts. 

“I want it to make sense,” Yeojin said. “The moon, Yerim,” she sighed, “Hyejoo.” She looked †o Haseul, doubt evident in her expression. “If we have people who can see the future, that means it’s set. So why were Yerim and the rest _meant_ to come here. Why was Hyejoo _supposed_ to get darkness instead of light?” 

The words were pouring out. Probably countless times spent remembering that day and wanting to know how it had gone wrong. How they had gone from being a family to something fractured. Haseul had had those same questions. 

And she hadn’t gotten any answers. 

Yeojin’s gaze softened. “I know,” she said. “None of us know the answer to that.” She scoffed. “I don’t even think the seers do either. They just know that it’s happening.” Pause. “It’s what they all do with what they know about the future. If Hyejoo’s future is dark, then she’s not supposed to be alive, but she is.” Anger was filling her eyes again. “We didn’t know what it really meant, but we were going to stand by her. Alluin was banished and now he’s the reason why people are dying, but they didn’t know that then.” 

Haseul glanced around to see if anyone was listening. She’d be able to salvage that. While people were used to Haseul saying things like this, they weren’t exactly as accepting of Yeojin doing the same. Even if what she was saying was right. 

“Both times,” Haseul said, hoping what she said wouldn’t be misunderstood. “People not knowing meant they were scared.” 

Yeojin opened her mouth, irritation entering her expression. 

“Wait,” she lifted her hand, “that never meant it was right. We weren’t afraid of Hyejoo. We knew she wouldn’t do that. They would’ve too, if they’d bothered to listen.”

“And the others?” Yeojin shot back. “Gowon knew Hyejoo better than any of us. She should’ve known that Hyejoo would’ve never hurt us, but you’re telling me she was _scared_?” 

Haseul remembered the way Gowon had looked after that spirit. She hadn’t been scared when they’d taken the three into that clearing. She hadn’t even looked scared when they’d left them. It was only after she’d seen that one spirit. And Haseul still didn’t know what had looked back at her. 

“I am,” she said. “And I know that everything they were thinking wasn’t right, but they weren’t doing it because they hated her.” She still didn’t know exactly why, but she was sure that the warnings of other people, elders or seers, had played a part in it. Haseul rarely truly listened, something that had made things more complicated than she’d expected. 

“So you didn’t drag them out at the end of the night, because you hated them?” Yeojin asked quietly. Her face didn’t suggest what she felt about it.

Haseul froze. 

“After Hyejoo escaped,” her brow furrowed, “I followed you to the clearing.” She paused, her brow furrowing further. “They deserved it.” Her expression turned into one of an intense anger. 

Haseul didn’t like seeing it. It also reminded her of how much more she should’ve done after they had exiled Hyejoo. She should’ve pushed down her anger and helped Yeojin handle hers. Instead it had been left to fester. 

“I,” Yeojin trailed off, “I almost wish you hadn’t gone to help them.” 

“What?” Haseul’s heart sank. “Don’t think like that.” 

“I don’t,” Yeojin said. “Not anymore.” Her gaze was fixed on the canopy above them. “But at the time I had. That means I’ve got a darker side, don’t I?” 

“It just means you were angry,” she told her. “And that you’re _still_ angry.” She brushed some of Yeojin’s hair from her face. “And I am too.” 

“But at them?” she asked. “They kept what you did a secret. You still treat them fine.”

“I’ll never excuse what they did,” Haseul replied. “But it doesn’t make sense to make enemies out of them.”

Yeojin sighed. 

“You’re allowed to be angry.”

“I looked for her,” Yeojin said. “I went to the village and the city near that.”

She knew that. Hyunjin had followed her. Yeojin had snuck out multiple times. Haseul had always assumed she'd been trying to look for her. Either Hyunjin or Yerim had gone after her. Sometimes Heejin as well. And Yeojin hadn't gotten into much trouble with the humans, only ever with spirits and the occasional wolf or vampire.

“And then it was a few months later that she killed those humans,” Yeojin said quietly. “You never told me.” She scowled. “But you let me find out about everything else. Now.”

“We didn’t tell you that,” Haseul replied. “Because,” she trailed off. 

She gave her a look. “You can’t even tell me why?” 

“I didn’t want to believe it.” None of them had. Hyejoo had never been a killer. She’d preferred to help Jinsoul and Yerim when it came to healing. “And I knew you wouldn’t either.” She saw it in orange eyes now. The confusion. The pain. It reminded her of that day. The day when those eyes had been filled with horror. 

“And then there was that human,” Yeojin murmured. “I asked around. People told me he’d deserved it.” 

“People don’t _deserve_ to die,” Haseul said. Of all things that could happen now, she didn't want Yeojin's thoughts to go there. “Maybe they deserve to be hurt, or maybe they don’t.”

“And if they cast someone out?” she asked. “Where’s the justice for someone who’ll just escape those mortal prison? Where’s the justice for the people who’ll keep suffering if they’re left to act?”

“You still don’t kill them,” Haseul shot back. “What if the spirits were actually alive? Their darkness spurs them to kill one of our own, so do we kill it?”

Yeojin looked lost in her own thoughts. About killing and when it was supposed to be allowed. When had this happened? How had Haseul not noticed it before?

“But these are humans,” Yeojin replied. “They can’t be changed by giving them light.” A pause. “They’re also mortal. They change a lot in that little time. These ones changed for the worst.” 

“You can’t take either away.” Haseul took her hand. 

She pulled away. “And what about you? Or Jungeun?” Her brow rose. “Both of you've killed more than Hyejoo has, but no one’s saying you’re monsters.”

“Not here,” Haseul replied. “But there’re elves and fairies who tried to kill me the moment they saw me. They’d wanted revenge for what I’d done to their families.” She brought them both to a halt. “And don’t forget how they treated Jungeun when she came here. Don't forget that people tried hunting her down," she forced Yeojin to look at her. "And remember what we thought of her coming here. Remember that _she_ was the one who broke that image." 

Of all of them, Jungeun had probably faced the worst because of her past. She was still up against it if they came across the wrong people. She also carried the burden of that, even if others had decided to move past it. 

And none of them were numb to that. Not Yves, not Haseul, and definitely not Jungeun. Even Hyunjin, whose time with Hyojung’s group had had its own share of violence, was followed by something. She didn’t seem like she was close to talking about it, but Haseul hoped she would eventually. It never did well to keep that bottled up. 

“I did what I did, because the ones I was fighting would’ve killed me,” Haseul said. “I wish I’d never had to, but it was the only thing I’d been useful for.” She’d never told this to Yeojin. She’d only ever opened up to Jungeun about it. “And now I can kill people more easily than you could.” 

Yeojin didn’t say anything. She was just looking up at Haseul with both confusion and something else. Was it horror?

“If we’re following the paths the moon gives us, then I was just following mine. Jinsoul was meant to heal the people she did. Jungeun was meant to protect the ones she did. And Hyejoo was meant to leave us,” Haseul paused, watching as the words sank in. “Some of those things could've been destined, but I hope it wasn't all set in stone. I hope we can actually make our own ways instead of just listening to seers and following the light.” 

Haseul started walking to the next patch of plants. Yeojin followed, but with a few steps delay. What she'd said would've had her slapped across the face once. She _had_ been slapped for voicing that. And it had only cemented her beliefs. She wondered where Yeojin stood there. 

“If we can make that path, then one day,” Haseul continued, hoping that admitting this to Yeojin wasn’t a mistake. “We’ll have Hyejoo back in our lives. It doesn’t matter if that’s what the moon wants, but if she’s supposed to be in Korea again, we'll have the chance to get her back.” 

“And if she doesn’t want to come back?” Yeojin asked. “I wouldn’t want to be back here.”

“Darie isn’t in our coven,” Haseul said, kneeling down again to inspect the mini garden. As always, it was laid out in the form of a sigil. The one for growth. It made sure that they could gather every few days, as opposed to every few weeks. “But she’s a part of our lives.” And the fairy, Dahyun was her real name, had proven to be an actual friend instead of someone who provided occasional help. 

“Haseul,” Yeojin called. 

She turned, hoping she wouldn’t find that Yeojin’s view of her had changed. 

It had, but orange eyes were looking at her with something Haseul could’ve almost thought was respect. 

“I’m sorry I don’t know enough about this,” Yeojin said quietly. “I’m lucky that I haven’t had to do the things you have, but it means I don’t understand the world like you do.” 

“You don’t have to,” Haseul started. 

“I do,” Yeojin cut her off. “I saw it with Vivi. She doesn’t know any of us, but she understands things more than I do. If she’s really done all the things like what I’ve heard, then she’ll get our people more than I do.” She shook her head, an empty laugh leaving her. “I didn’t like Choerry because I didn’t get why she did the things she did.” She sighed. “But I do now.”

Haseul didn’t say anything. She was building up to something. Haseul wouldn’t interrupt that. 

“I want you to help me,” she said. “I want to find what I’m supposed to actually do here.” 

_I want to be useful_. That was what Haseul heard in that. It was because Yeojin had gone off on her own, before both Hyunjin and Yerim had followed. It was because they’d gotten hurt and Yeojin hadn’t been able to help. 

If she went deeper, it was because Yeojin hadn’t been able to help Hyejoo. She hadn’t even been able to speak up for her on that day. She’d been too distraught by what she’d seen. 

“I’m on patrol tomorrow,” Haseul said. “We’ll start with that?”

The smile that Yeojin gave her was as bright as the moon. And it was joined with all the knowledge that Yeojin had about what Haseul believed, and what she’d done. 

_____

The fairy was, to put it simply, gorgeous. Her hair was a myriad of two shades of blue, one pale, one deep, like the early night sky. Her eyes kept changing from gold to silver. If an elf’s eyes were unnerving, an emotional fairy’s were otherworldly. Their eyes revealed their emotions. Those fairies could put up illusions to cover their eyes, but they rarely did that. 

It was an interesting type of selflessness there. Those fairies could see all of their emotions and know a _lot_ through that, but they also let outsiders see their own feelings. 

Well, you’d know them if you knew how to read the different colours. 

As far as Hyunjin knew, Haseul, Heejin were the best there. She remembered Chuu and Yves being very involved with that as well, also having learned the nuances between different shades of green, grey, and even more. They’d been taught by this fairy in particular. 

In turn, they’d given her light and led her to different spirits, be it a bright one or a dark spirit in the process of turning. The fairy had learned about light, darkness, and their emotional components. On the other hand, they’d learned about how to read the emotional fae. To a small extent at least. 

“I’m Dahyun,” the fairy gave Yerim a smile, “I’ve seen these sorts of injuries before.” Her _crosesh_ was lightly accented, but nothing compared to most fairies and elves. 

“Did you heal them too?” Jinsoul asked. 

The fairy nodded. “But you’ve got to know what I’m offering first.” A mixture of dark blue and yellow appeared. “You may not like it.” She glanced at Hyunjin then, her eyes turning a soft shade of silver. Caution. 

“It works,” Hyunjin said. 

Heejin looked up then. Hyunjin almost wished she wasn’t there. But even then, they needed her here. 

There was just an increased risk that Heejin would learn more about the years they’d spent apart. 

Hyunjin was ashamed of what she’d nearly done then. She’d been desperate. The only person who’d actually pulled her back from that had been Dahyun. And even though the fairy had never been in Hyunjin’s position, she had understood the desire to rip a piece of yourself out. 

And that was exactly what Hyunjin didn’t want Heejin knowing. It didn’t help that Dahyun and Heejin were surprisingly close by elven and fae standards. All it would take was a question and Dahyun would tell Heejin about those years where Hyunjin had sought her help. Things that could very well break her heart. And as much as Hyunjin wanted to be free of the situation, she couldn’t stand hurting Heejin more than she already was. 

“What is it?” Yerim asked, breaking Hyunjin from her worries. That was good. Getting Yerim healed was more important than any sad story of the past. 

“I need to give you this.” Dahyun held out a hand. A chunk of dark blue had formed. 

“Sadness?” Heejin frowned. “Is that necessary?”

Jungeun and Jinsoul shared the same expression of concern. The former even opened her mouth, not doubt wanting to protest. 

“It absorbs the light,” Dahyun replied. “Sadness tugs at a lot of emotions, especially ones like she has.” She waved there. “This holds excitement, a twisted form of desire, a strange giddiness, as well as fear.” Her eyes turned a dark gold. Curiosity mixed with concern. 

“Numbing?” Jungeun’s frown faded. There was a strange look in her eyes. Hyunjin recognised it, but for a different reason. Both of them had taken on a strange form of darkness. Both of them were facing a different type of pain. It looked like Jungeun was handling it better than she was, but Hyunjin had known her for long enough to know that this might’ve not been the case. 

One look at Jinsoul showed her that she’d also understood. The concern on her face had strengthened. 

Hyunjin watched as Jungeun glanced at her, before looking away. The look in her eyes vanished, replaced by concentration. 

“This’ll get rid of the burning?” Jungeun asked. Dahyun nodded. “I’ll be able to make a thin coating for the entire leg. Should only be an hour or so.” The piece of emotion melted into a short shimmering length of dark blue. It settled over Yerim’s still glowing ankle. “If this feels truly terrible, we’ll try something else.” Then she stood and left the earthen hut. 

Yerim was looking at the sadness on her leg. Her brow was furrowed. “It’s cold.”

“Yeah?” Jinsoul leaned forward, taking her hand as she did. Her eyes were fixed on the emotion as well. 

“And it lives uptimes to what it means.” She gave them a smile, but it sagged at the edges. 

It was only slight, but the scent of fruit had lessened. The flowers were starting to hang from their stalks. 

“You get used to it,” Hyunjin told her. “And it works fast.” She got to her feet. She was already missing the light. 

Maybe Dahyun would have a solution to the cold. It’d barely faded for her. When others were around, it lessened. 

But once she was alone, she felt as she had after first taking the darkness. If anything, she felt worse. 

She heard someone follow. She didn’t look back. 

“Did you find a lot of bright spirits?” Heejin asked. She was a little bit behind Hyunjin, as if walking beside her would be worse. No, walking together in the first place wouldn't look right to people. 

Hyunjin nearly turned her away completely. She didn't. She still felt guilty for how she'd acted earlier. 

But she didn't plan on apologising. Even if she was feeling better because of the light. Heejin'slight. 

“We came across more,” Hyunjin said. She looked up at the moon. She still couldn’t call upon the light. If she tried, something in her started to hurt. It was in both her head and her heart. She could only hope that it’d fade once the darkness subsided. “After we cleared houses and,” she caught herself, “other things.”

“Other things?”

Hyunjin remembered that Heejin could easily ask another person, ranging from Hyojung to Mimi, even Jiho. 

“Mortals fight,” she replied. “A lot.” And usually dark spirits struck. Most not in the form of animals, but they terrified anyone unlucky enough to cross their path. Oftentimes, their already frayed emotions got worse. 

Hyojung followed rumours, as well as indications of the moon. That was either through Jiho’s sight or the divination of witches. Sometimes both. They either fought the spirits or came to the affected after. 

And then there were times when the bright spirits braved an attack. Especially if one of them was weakened. 

“Can Dahyun help you?” 

The question made her pause. She looked over. 

It was almost irritating how the moonlight illuminated Heejin. It made her skin glow softly, while her eyes seem even more alive, the light, dancing within the irises. 

Heejin raised a brow now. “What? It’s not like I forgot what happened.”

“I’m asking her now.” She kept walking. She hoped Heejin would remember some duty of hers and leave. 

Hyunjin fought a sigh. She shouldn’t have been _wanting_ Heejin to leave. She didn’t really want that. She just wanted to speak to Dahyun without worrying about the past being brought up. Especially not to someone who’d be deeply hurt by what she heard. 

But of course, when they reached her, the past had already been brought up. 

Gowon was sitting beside Dahyun. Yves was on the other side, while Chuu sat across from them. 

She felt Heejin stiffen. 

Hyunjin held up a hand. They both stopped. Good, she wanted to avoid a clash. Especially in front of Dahyun. The fairy would see it as a problem she'd want to solve. It'd be out of care for all of them, but this wasn't something an emotional fairy could solve. 

“The grey relates only slightly to the emotion,” Dahyun said. “Because you aren’t really afraid of it.”

Gowon’s voice was unrecognisable from its usual youthful pitch. “Not anymore.” 

“All I see is what hurts you,” she said. “And it draws on none of your emotions, so they aren’t being drained from you.” A pause. "Just not properly felt." There was an edge to her voice. Worry. 

Yves straightened then. “You’re here tomorrow too?” She’d seen them.” 

“You might have to wake up earlier than normal.” There was a little bit of teasing in Dahyun’s voice. She usually told them they were missing out on the day by sleeping through it. Dahyun, of course, didn’t sleep much at all. Apparently, excitement kept her well rested. 

“We will,” Chuu stood, “do you think there’s a—”

“Happiness or calm could soothe the pain,” Dahyun replied. “Try it.” She held out her hand. “You’ll have a faint amount of mine, but most of what you have from before will be brought to the forefront, if that’s alright.”

Gowon got up as well. “We’ll see.” She looked in Hyunjin and Heejin's direction. “Later.” 

Dahyun looked as well. As they neared, Hyunjin saw that her eyes had turned a deep blue. She’d heard as much about Hyejoo’s banishment as Vivi did, but Dahyun had actually known her. She also knew the fallout—almost as well as they did. She knew what each person felt about it. 

She also hadn’t grown enraged at the three who’d turned away. She saw what they felt now. Something none of them could—or would, even if they had the chance. Those who held grudges against Gowon and the rest wouldn’t want to know what guilt they felt. The three in question wouldn’t want to know the extent of Heejin’s anger either. 

Looking at them now, Hyunjin was tempted to tell the three to stay. Whatever the problem with Gowon was, it seemed like a burden to her. And both Chuu and Yves were worried about her. 

But they were already leaving. Hyunjin didn’t want to start another disagreement. And that was inevitable if Heejin looked one of them in the eye. 

Not for the first time, she wished she could mend this bridge. Heejin had been involved with fairies who’d killed their own kind and negotiated with elves they’d fought with. She’d been able to tolerate the sight of them, but couldn’t look past the mistakes of old friends. 

They’d been terrible mistakes, of course, ones Hyunjin hadn’t been able to forgive them, but they’d been made. And in an immortal life, grudges weren’t supposed to be held. At least that was what Hyunjin believed. 

“What happened?” Dahyun was staring at her. “I saw it earlier, but now,” she trailed off. She looked to Heejin then. Someone who Hyunjin had told very little about a lot of things, including her current state. 

Hyunjin almost sighed. As much as she liked Dahyun, the fairy was _terrible_ with social cues, including certain secrets. “I took care of the massacre in the northern town.”

Her eyes flooded with silver—worry. Wonderful 

“What?” Heejin leaned forward. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s anger, rage even,” Dahyun said. “And grief.” 

Hyunjin watched as the fairy’s eyes went from golden confusion to a deeper shade of curiosity. Then dark blue and silver. 

“I don’t feel those things.” Sometimes she felt irritable, even empty. 

“No,” Dahyun nodded, “but do you feel drained?”

Hyunjin wondered what colour her shock was. 

“But your light soothes it?” Dahyun glanced up at the sky. 

She nearly said she couldn’t call upon it. She bit down on her tongue instead and nodded. The light other people gave her eased the ache, before it returned fully again. 

A bit of gold appeared. She didn’t believe her. Not really. 

Thankfully, the fairy didn’t say it aloud. Even then, if Heejin had caught that, she'd definitely remember it. 

“But can we get it out completely?” Worry was starting to enter Heejin’s voice. 

Hyunjin nearly took her hand. 

Dahyun shook her head. “I can’t draw such a thing out, even if it is emotion. Time is always the solution.”

She had tried in other cases. Even tried against the spirits directly. Had Hyunjin and the others not been there during one of Dahyun’s experiments, it would’ve ended a lot worse. Emotional fairies were able to turn the spirits, but the cost of that was a lot. It involved giving away your positive emotions. The more powerful an emotion, the better it was to turn a spirit. Dahyun avoided giving up the stronger emotions, like love and happiness. Most of the emotional fairies avoided that. 

Dahyun had once told her that giving up anything as strong as love or happiness needed to be avoided at all costs. 

While it’d been in response to a _very_ different question, Dahyun had explained the costs of those things. For everyone but the emotional fae, losing an emotion meant becoming incomplete. They either lost entire memories, pieces of their minds, or portions of their soul. Dahyun’s kind could handle it, but that had its own consequences, ones she didn’t even know herself. 

In short, Dahyun had told Hyunjin that giving up a piece of herself would be the most idiotic thing she could do. Fairies could be blunt when they wanted to. 

_It won’t get rid of your pain_ , she’d said. _And if you loved her once, you’d just love her again, but you’d not be fully yourself_. 

“I can make you a mixture,” Dahyun said now. “Bring some of your own emotions to the forefront and have a few trace things of my own there.” 

“What about mine?” Heejin asked. “Can you give her those?”

Dahyun’s eyes turned sad again, but there was also dark green. That meant she was happy at the same time. About what? 

“It’s unwise for you to share like that. Especially if it doesn’t help.”

“Doesn’t help?” she repeated. Her brow was furrowed. The worry was slowly becoming desperation. 

Hyunjin put a hand on her arm. “We’ll wait to see what happens.” As far as she knew, very few had gotten the darkness of a person stuck in their hearts. They’d only ever dealt with that of spirits and sites of devastation. 

Heejin held her gaze. Hyunjin felt a slow warmth build in her chest. Was it because of Heejin? Or was she just sending her light that way. Again. 

“What happens if it doesn’t work?” Heejin’s brow was on its way to forming a deep furrow. 

_I don’t know_ , Hyunjin thought. “I’ll find something.” 

“ _We’ll_ find something,” she said. 

A small burst of warmth came then. Hyunjin had to smile at the determination there. She turned away then. 

Dahyun’s eyes had glazed over. In her hands was a blue cloth the length of a hand. Blue kept being added to it, coming from thin air. Looking at it, Hyunjin felt a weight settle over her shoulders. She looked away from that too. 

“I can at least say that the ache fades around those closest to you,” the fairy said. “The emotions directed at you, as well as the ones you feel yourself, will be largely positive.” A small smile. “So no use isolating yourself.”

Hyunjin snorted. “You’re one to talk.” She’d met the fairy after she’d temporarily left her clan. Something about a new core emotion forming. Hyunjin didn’t understand it and she hadn’t asked either. Dahyun had a habit of unconsciously tearing a concept apart, like the soul or moonlight. She’d make your head spin and she’d smile while doing it, completely entranced by what she was talking about. Hyunjin usually came away, closer to a crisis than she liked. 

Dahyun grinned. “And I’m now highly social.”

She chuckled. The warmth spread. Then she frowned. “Are you doing that?”

Dahyun shrugged. “If it helps the cold, don’t question it.”

Heejin sat down. She looked up at Hyunjin, half hopeful, half expectant. 

“This’ll be a half hour work,” the fairy said. “Then we go back, hope the sadness doesn’t become terrible for her, and then bind the wound. I’ll discuss what Jungeun’s issue is, tell Jinsoul what other healing methods could help, and then reconvene with your newest addition.” 

“You know Viian?” Hyunjin knew she shouldn’t have been surprised. Dahyun was truly a social fairy. A huge exception when it came to just about all of her kind, but social nonetheless. When she’d left her clan, she’d gone around to many different groups, learning more about their language, as well as their customs. She’d even gone as far to teach them of her magic. 

It was during that time that she’d discovered how to make emotions a physical thing. Just like how the Astra could make light something tangible. While a lot of that magic was kept secret, Dahyun had taught elves like Heejin and Yves about the colours. She’d also been a bit more generous with helping the Astra, because of how similar their two kinds of magic were. Apparently, light was filled with emotion, so was darkness. While Dahyun couldn’t control it, she understood light surprisingly well. 

“I know her well,” Dahyun said. “A bit more than I know the rest of you, actually.” She smiled then. “She helped me adjust to mortal systems. Specifically one that had courts and strict laws.”

“The one where you stole those books?” Heejin asked, a smile playing on her lips. 

Dahyun’s eyes flashed orange. Amusement. “Perhaps.”

Hyunjin laughed. She hadn’t expected Viian to help with something like _that_. They really did need to bring her further into the fold. Haseul had told her that Heejin was slowly getting away form that baseless resentment. Hyunjin was relieved. A part of her was also proud. 

“She’s one you can look too for help,” Dahyun said. “Even if she knows little of your magic and people, she knows very much about the rest of the world. More than most here.” Her gaze lingered on Heejin then. 

Said elf didn’t reply, but Hyunjin saw shame in her eyes. A part of her was also relieved that Heejin regretted how she’d acted. She didn’t know how she would’ve felt if Heejin had continued as she had. 

It might’ve even made the act of stopping to love her easier. 

But of course, Heejin had recognised she was wrong. She’d recognised that it was useless to keep acting as she had. 

It made loving her all the more easier. 

Something Hyunjin had once wished she could stop doing entirely. 

_____

Jinsoul eyed the blue bandage. It was eerie how it matched her own eyes. 

And it meant sadness. Was that a coincidence? Or purposeful? And was there something that decided that?

She looked to Yerim then. Purple was the colour of love. If Yerim had anything to give, it was exactly that. But she also spread happiness like she did light. And that was green. 

With Jungeun, red meant anger. As much as Jinsoul wished it hadn't been, Jungeun's life had been full of that. Either battle-induced rage, or early on hot-headedness. Jungeun had admitted to having that when she was younger, but when Jinsoul had met her, she'd been surprisingly level-headed.

And while she'd seen Jungeun lose control, but she’d also seen her forgive others before anyone else would. She could also be more patient than most others, even if the person she was talking to hadn't given her a chance. Jinsoul had seen enough of that when she'd first come to the Astra. The colour of their eyes couldn’t just mean one thing. 

Yerim sighed as the sadness was wrapped around her leg. “Better,” she said. “Much.” A weak smile started to form. 

“Take it off every hour,” Dahyun said. “Then hold this.” She took Yerim’s hand. Her eyes turned a deep green, like Haseul’s eyes, but without the gleam. 

A ball of the same colour appeared in Yerim’s palm. 

“That’s yours, not mine. You will rarely feel too much of your own emotions, but that can happen with the sadness I’m giving you. This’ll keep it from being too much for you to bear.” 

Yerim nodded. Jinsoul felt the beginnings of tear forming in the girl. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, but she still didn’t like that she was feeling so sad. 

“Thank you,” Yerim said. “Really.” 

Dahyun smiled. She’d been the main contact of the Astra for a reason. She was understanding of their differences, but looked past them enough to actually befriend a few of them. 

“I’ll leave you then." She looked to the two of them. "You should also give her some time to adjust. It’s a lot for the first few hours.” 

Jungeun stood up first. She squeezed Yerim’s shoulder. “I’ll come back later.” She glanced at Jinsoul. “We both will, probably.”

Yerim nodded again. Already, the light wasn’t as bright in her eyes. 

_This will work_ , Jinsoul told herself. It had to. 

When they left, the scent of flowers was replaced with forests. It seemed stronger than normal. 

After walking for a bit, away from camp, Dahyun turned to Jungeun. “And you?” She looked worried. 

Jungeun looked caught. “I don’t need anything.”

Jinsoul heard the lie easily. 

“It may be less than what she has, but Hyunjin asked me to help,” the fairy held up a small pouch, “this may help, as I hope it will her as well.” 

Jungeun looked at it. “Which emotions?”

“In you, there's pain, a combination of grief, regret, and anger, as well as sadness,” she replied. “In here, there’s positive emotions. Small enough that you needn’t worry about getting sick, but potent enough to help with your other emotions.” Her eyes glazed over, now a combination of silver and gold. “Once they’re brought closer to that darkness, it may help soothe that,” she hesitated, “ache.”

Ache. The pause bothered her. The furrow in Dahyun’s brow also wasn’t reassuring. 

Jungeun was still staring at it. She was debating whether or not she’d take it. 

So Jinsoul nudged her arm. 

She jumped and took it. “Thank you.” She just stuffed it into her pocket. 

Dahyun stretched her arms out. Her eyes flashed yellow and she straightened. “Now I’ll find Hyunjin, do the same there, then help Chaewon and her own plight.” 

Jungeun frowned. “Is she hurt?”

The fairy shook her head. “She has been hurting for a time,” she said, eyes now purely dark blue. “While I understand little about your moonlit bonds, I can see how those emotions stretch between you.” Her brow furrowed. “And here the emotions have been stripped from her, leaving holes one shouldn’t ever have.” Her eyes flickered to the space in front of Jungeun then. 

“Holes?” Jinsoul repeated. She hadn’t seen anything like that. And since when did Gowon have a bond?

Dahyun grimaced. “It’s why I’ve never agreed to take away another’s emotion. It’s unnatural, to say the least, and to rid yourself of even one piece of emotion is to take away a precious part of your being.” 

“Then why do _you_ do it to yourself?” Jinsoul knew how selfless some fae could be, but letting others have pieces of your soul went too far. 

“It’s different for my people,” she said simply. “The emotions I hold could never be felt by any of you, merely because of how much there is.” Her eyes remained blue. “It’s why they can become effective weapons and we can handle,” she paused. Her eyes turned partially gold. “Just as you can handle the light you hold, such a thing would drive me mad. The darkness you can handle couldn’t fade in me as it does in you.” She shrugged. “I can both hold a great amount of emotion, but I can also give away a fair amount too, while none of you can give much away.”

“So what happens to Gowon?” Jinsoul asked. If ‘normal people’ weren’t ever supposed to have those holes and Gowon did, what would that mean in the long run?

“She went years without it worsening. Now it’s fluctuated.” The fairy’s eyes were silver again. She was worried. “I’ve never seen anything like it, but I’ll try what I can.” Then she gave them both a warm smile—somehow she always managed to do that, even if her eyes were literally saying something else—and was off. 

One thing about the fae, especially the emotional and mental, was that they had no filter. If you were surrounded by people who knew either every thought or every emotion of yours, there was almost no point in lying. Apparently, no mental fae could read Dahyun’s mind. It was one of the reasons why they trusted her more than most. She’d also helped with those scarred by prior battles or spirit encounters that’d left wounds that couldn’t be healed by light. 

Dahyun had never lied when helping them. Some pieces of information may have been omitted, usually because they were too complicated, but she’d never hid something to hurt them. That honesty had been on full display here, but maybe not in the way everyone wanted. 

Because neither Jungeun or Jinsoul held a massive grudge against them, the fairy probably thought they could be let in on Gowon’s situation. 

Every now and then, Jinsoul had been tempted to ask Dahyun if she could answer some of her other questions. 

Two things always held her back. One, Dahyun had almost no comprehension of anything romantic. She didn’t even have the concept of flirting in her mind, if certain interactions were anything to go by. Two, and most important, it’d overstep a line that Jinsoul never wanted to cross. To break Jungeun’s trust was something she’d never done and would never do. Sometimes just telling a white lie was hard. 

“See,” Jungeun smiled at her, “it’s fine.”

”Fine?” Jinsoul stared at her. “What—”

“Look at what’s in here,” she unwrapped the string on the pouch, “nothing’s dangerous. We’ll just try and see if it works.”

In the cloth were four pieces of emotion: two pieces of calm, one of orange humour and one of purple love. 

“If it helps,” Jungeun continued. “Then maybe we just have to get more creative on how we heal this type of thing.” 

“By making sure you’re relaxed the entire time? Then making someone like you or Hyunjin laugh?” _And getting the two of you romantic partners_ , Jinsoul added in her head. There were two options for Hyunjin, one wasn’t allowed, the other would make the forbidden person hopelessly jealous. And for Jungeun—

She pushed those thoughts from her head. 

“Maybe it’ll be worth a try.” Jungeun tapped the green shard. Then she smiled. Her eyes became slightly brighter. Anything was brighter than the dull red from before. “Definitely makes me feel better.” 

And that was what mattered. 

Jungeun hadn’t told her what the darkness felt like. Not really. She’d just worn a smile and given her reassuring words. There’d been the brief moment of something else, but when she’d woken up, that smile had returned. 

But now, watching as Jungeun relaxed, Jinsoul realised how much the darkness might’ve been affecting her. And if it was hurting, if these emotions were just soothing it without healing, then what else was there? Light didn’t work. Jinsoul had no idea what else she could do. She couldn’t even take the darkness from her. 

Or at least, Jungeun would never let her try. She’d argue that Jinsoul would get stuck with something she couldn’t heal. Even if that meant she’d be stuck with something that just got worse. 

And what about the ache Dahyun had mentioned? Was it related to the holes Gowon had? Or something different? If it was a hole slowly growing in Jungeun’s heart, what would that mean? 

“‘Soul,” Jungeun moved so she stood in front of her, “it might’ve not sounded so great, but this isn’t that bad. I’m the one feeling it and I’m telling you it’ll be alright.” Her expression had softened. It was exactly the one that could ease so many of Jinsoul's worries. 

Jinsoul wanted to share that confidence now, but she couldn't. She didn’t know much more than she had when it’d first started. More people were getting hurt in ways that didn’t heal that fast. They were losing numbers for patrol and guard. If Jinsoul didn’t find a way to heal all of that quickly, then more would lose their lives. 

A cool hand cupped Jinsoul’s face. Her head was tilted so it looked right into red eyes. While they were still dim, they looked better than they had in days. 

Jungeun smiled at her. A genuine one. The one she reassured people with. The one those people believed, because they saw how convinced Jungeun was. How sure she was that everything would be alright. 

“Let’s get something to eat, then bring it back to Yerim,” she said. “And we’ll see if it’s helping with her own light.” Jungeun took away her hand, only to grab Jinsoul’s. 

Jinsoul let herself be pulled back to camp. 

Jungeun looked back at her now and again. The darkness still clung to her chest and Jinsoul knew it was affecting her—hurting her. Dahyun had seen it easily too. 

And yet it was Jungeun in the lead. She didn’t know much more than Jinsoul did, but she was leagues more hopeful than she was. And one of her concerns was making sure that Jinsoul felt that hope as well. 

A small flutter of something formed in Jinsoul’s chest. It made her feel warmer and heavier at the same time. It gave her legs the strength to keep up with Jungeun. 

Said girl’s smile brightened when Jinsoul was at her side. Jinsoul watched to see if the hesitation would come. It usually did when Jungeun realised they were straying away from their years of friendship. 

It never came. Jungeun’s eyes were just a brighter shade of red and an easy smile had fully spread across her face. 

And even though Jinsoul was still worried about what tomorrow would bring, she let herself focus on the person beside her. She didn’t look at the darkness, only the brightness in Jungeun's eyes. 

_I love you_ , she thought. 

The flutter in her chest started to ache.

She ignored it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While this features a character in another story, I can safely say I haven't spoiled any of it. Not only is the story set quite a few years before that one, but it's also very unrelated to most of the content there. 
> 
> That out of the way, I hope the inclusion of emotional magic wasn't too confusing. It took me a while to get it cemented in the first place, but once I had it, the magic of the Astra was pretty clear to me when I started writing this story. Colours usually play a big role for me, not just in this story, but I always love using a variety of colours when I write. For this story, however, if any of the colours are really important, I'll probably reference that directly. If there are other colour references and they're not explained, it'll be because they're just smaller details. 
> 
> Back to the story in question, Dahyun will feature briefly again, but then she'll be off again. Depending on what happens, she might come back, but my focus is on the girls in question. This chapter in particular was more to get another perspective on the different characters, both regarding their past and current states. While the pasts of characters like Haseul and Jungeun won't be the focus of the story, they were important to shaping the characters in particular. 
> 
> Either way, I hope you're doing well and do let me know your thoughts! Some of the insights I've seen have made me so much more excited to get to writing. Sometimes I'm distracted from movies and/or studying, but I have so much fun writing this story. Seeing that people are reading it is just really incredible to me too, so thank you for that!!


	26. Try

Gowon looked down at the bond. It was dark, but threaded with silver and grey now. She wondered what happened to it to make a part of it go back to the way it was. Was Hyejoo farther away? Or was it because of what she was doing? Or something Gowon had done? 

Dahyun had seen no connection. What she’d seen had ended at one point. That point would’ve been the part of the bond that had shattered. She still saw its pieces extending away from her and reaching towards Hyejoo. 

Gowon wondered what it would be like to follow it. Would the pain ease or get stronger? Would her head be filled with thoughts of Hyejoo when they were happy or memories of the banishment? 

And would Hyejoo feel anything from it? Or nothing at all. 

If anything, Gowon wished Hyejoo wasn’t feeling the same pain she was. What happened if Gowon went closer and Hyejoo started feeling that pain? If she saw her, Hyejoo wouldn’t just feel hatred and anger, but also the pain from what they’d lost. 

Gowon didn’t want to risk that. This pain was her burden. It wasn’t even that large of one. Hyejoo was out there, taking on jobs that would help her along in whatever life she had now. She wasn’t home. And if things were as bad as Gowon feared, she was also being hunted. 

And Gowon would be the last person Hyejoo would want to protect her. 

She could only hope that the rest, the ones Hyejoo still loved, would be enough to defend her if it came to that. 

“Please tell me there’s more we can do,” Jiwoo said. She sounded more troubled than Gowon felt. Was it really so terrible? There were worse things that Gowon could be suffering from. 

Dahyun shook her head. “I can only say that time would heal these wounds.” She looked at Gowon with bright silver eyes. The fairy was also more worried than Gowon was. “Because it’s not one specific emotion that was taken away through this.”

“You mean it was everything I shared with Hyejoo,” Gowon said. 

She nodded. “Some has been left over, but many of the positive things. The care you had for her, the happiness you felt when around her, excitement—”

“I don’t think you need to keep going.” Gowon really didn’t want her to continue. Positive emotions meant love as well. It meant that she was missing a part of that. Did that mean she didn’t love Hyejoo as much as before?

“What I can do,” Dahyun began, “is try and coat those holes with your other emotions.” She shifted so that she was directly in front of Gowon. “And whenever you’re wielding light, you need to push it towards that bond. You have to directly try and soothe the pain you’re feeling.”

“It’s not that bad.” Why couldn’t they get that? Was she really giving the impression that it was worse?

“Don’t start that,” Sooyoung said sharply. 

“I’m not.” Gowon glared at her. “It hurts, yeah, but it’s never been agony. It was when the bond broke, but it isn’t anymore, so why can’t I just live with that?”

Dahyun’s eyes were dark blue instead of silver. “I can feel that there’s an emptiness within you. The rest will be able to as well.” 

“And is that a problem?” She tried to keep her voice level. Dahyun was here to help them. “Let them see another consequence for what I—we did. I’ve lived with this for years and I can keep living with it.”

The fairy shook her head. “You shouldn’t need to be living like this, Chaewon. Pieces of you are missing and the only way they’ll be replaced is with new memories, all of them positive.”

 _Replace_. As if she could replace those things. 

“I haven’t asked your seers about this. That will be up to you if you do or not,” Dahyun said. “But I would imagine that your path isn’t as bright as it should be. I don’t see this hurting you more than it already is, but it won’t let you live as fully as you once did.”

“What does that mean?” Jiwoo’s brow furrowed. She looked as if she knew what Dahyun had meant and that knowledge scared her. 

“It’s difficult to describe if you’ve never felt it before,” Dahyun frowned, “neither have I, not really. Though I know from people who’ve given up stronger emotions, that they become more detached, less closely tied with themselves.” She fixed Gowon with a look. Dark blue and grey. It looked like the steel of Hyejoo’s swords. “They were from my clan. That you have managed without extensive harm is a miracle in and of itself, but that doesn’t mean you will live well.” 

_I don’t need to_ , Gowon thought. She didn’t say it aloud. Not when Sooyoung and Jiwoo’s hearts would break to hear it. 

But the fairy seemed to understand that. Pale yellow surprise flickered in her eyes. Then dark blue took over her irises. “I urge you to be open to finding solutions for this. Try everything you can, from being close to the people you love, to furthering the friendships you already have.” She looked between Gowon’s eyes. She was actually pleading with her to take her words. “You’re immortal,” she said. “That alone has its own setbacks. Don’t let yourself fall into an incomplete eternity in addition to that.” 

Gowon felt trapped. Three people were looking at her with equal amounts of worry. They wanted her to heal from this. Something she’d brought upon herself. 

But what Dahyun was telling them now. It meant that Sooyoung and Jiwoo could never live with themselves if Gowon still lived with pain, or something worse. Gowon had to try. If not for herself, then for them. 

So she didn’t say anything, not trusting if she’d sound frustrated or defeated. Dahyun would know the difference. The other two would be too distracted. She just nodded. 

Dahyun’s eyes brightened, before they glazed over. 

Immediately, a warmth settled over her. She saw Jiwoo and Sooyoung sending her encouraging smiles, holding her tightly. 

Then she saw the smiling faces of Hyunjin, Heejin, and Hyejoo. They’d gone on their first successful hunt together. None of them had gotten hurt and they’d turned two spirits. 

Then she saw the faces of her parents. They engulfed her in a tight hug. Briefly, the scent of jasmine reached Gowon’s nose. 

High-pitched laughter filled her ears. Hyejoo’s eyes were crinkled as she bent over, hands clutching her stomach. Gowon had burnt their dinner. 

The next memory was a hug that lasted several moments too long. The most comforting feeling overcame her chest, drowning out the pain. She was in Hyejoo’s arms. She could still hear her steady heart rate. 

And then the memories stopped. 

Purple and green eyes were looking back at her, not eyes the colour of coal. The two colours swirled within them. 

“How do you feel?” 

Gowon’s face was wet with tears. She wiped them away. The ruined bond still stretched out from her, but she didn’t feel cold. The pain was a dull echo of what it had been. 

“You just reminded me of what I’m missing,” Gowon muttered. She sent Dahyun what she hoped was a light-hearted glare. “Is that all you could find?”

“They’re some of your strongest memories,” Dahyun said. She wiped a few of Gowon's tears away. “I'm sorry for bringing back the sadness of not having it anymore, but that is how I can soothe those other wounds.”

She nodded. It really had taken the worst of the pain away. “Thank you.” 

The fairy smiled at her, but her eyes had turned sad again. “I’ll come back in the next months, see how everyone here is. I’ve already told Jinsoul and Nuala, but I’ll also tell you.” She held Gowon’s gaze, before moving to Jiwoo and Sooyoung. “If anything gets worse, then send word. Even if I don’t know any solutions currently, I will do everything I can to find something.” 

And Gowon knew that she would. 

Jiwoo was smiling at Dahyun when they got ready to say goodbye. Sooyoung wasn’t smiling, but her eyes were warm. 

“You’re our favourite,” Jiwoo said. “You know that, right?” She engulfed her in a hug. 

Dahyun stiffened, surprise glinting in her eyes. She never expected physical contact. Gowon wasn’t sure if she liked it. She wondered if she’d ever fall in love. They’d be lucky, whoever it was. 

“You’re high on my list as well,” she replied. “But I have you all on the same level.”

“Indecisive,” Sooyoung muttered. “Just say I am and we’ll be done with it.” She pulled Dahyun in for a side hug. 

Orange humour appeared, but Dahyun didn’t reply. 

Gowon smirked at Sooyoung. “Clearly, _I’m_ the favourite.”

“I’d say it’s me.” Jiwoo raised a hand. Her peach eyes glittered. 

_Finally_ , Gowon thought. If it took someone like Dahyun to get Jiwoo to lose her concerned or distant expression, then they’d have to get her here more often. 

It hurt that Gowon and Sooyoung couldn’t manage the same as easily, but maybe they’d just have to try harder. 

_____

Vivi found Dahyun at the fire pit. The one she shared with Yeojin and Haseul. 

"I was quite confident I had the right place." The fairy broke into a smile. “I'm glad to see I followed your emotions correctly.”

Vivi raised an eyebrow. “Were they around the fire or in the tent?”

“Both,” she said. “It’s less now, but there was a time when many people visited the wrong fires, sometimes even the tents.” A small frown appeared. 

“I’ll stop you there.” Vivi didn’t hide her smile. As much as she wanted to know more about the dynamics within the Astra, she wasn’t going to have Dahyun unknowingly expose gossip she wasn’t supposed to speak aloud. 

Most fairies didn’t, or couldn’t, keep secrets for that reason. That wasn’t the case in just about _every_ other society. But with the fairies having people who could either read your mind or your emotions, secrecy was a lot more difficult. 

Dahyun nodded. “Thank you.” Her eyes turned a specific shade of yellow. Darker than excitement: embarrassment. “I may have revealed some things I shouldn’t have already.”

Vivi really did want to ask what those were, but she wasn’t in the society of the far anymore. Haseul seemed to be reaching over those boundaries already, offering to actually answer Vivi’s questions. Even if the elf knew a bit more about her past than Vivi did about any of theirs. It was all about acknowledging boundaries. And respecting some of them. 

“How are you?” Dahyun had fallen into the fae language. Most elves just called it fae, its actual name something few could properly pronounce. 

“Now or in general?” It felt so good to speak the language again. _Crosesh_ wasn’t difficult, but she still didn’t feel fully at ease with it. 

She smiled. Her eyes were orange. “I know how you currently are. I’d only know the second if I looked a bit harder.”

“So you’re saying you’re too lazy for that.”

Dahyun laughed. Vivi felt a surge in the light around her. Strange. She’d been spotting those changes a few times. 

“How closely is light connected to emotions?”

The way Dahyun’s yes lit up told her that the answer was: very. 

“You’d be surprised by how close it all is. Even the spirits often coincide with the emotions. Not completely, because they hold a wealth of either bright or dark emotions, which you already know don’t mean they’re good or bad emotions, as happiness is a dark emotion. But that’s why I still think they were actually once people, but that’s beside the point.” She paused. Vivi briefly wondered if it was to catch her breath. “You can feel the changes too now, can’t you?”

Vivi nodded. Bright yellow flooded Dahyun’s eyes. Excitement. Of course Dahyun would love this change. 

“You won’t be able to pinpoint the meaning, but the way you sense changes, you’ll be able to glean certain things. Like if someone was being cheered up or infuriated.” She wrinkled her nose. “But you’ll be going off of normal cues too, and know the exact change there.”

Vivi elbowed her. “So I’m not yet as skilled as you.”

“You’re more than me,” Dahyun said, her expression fully earnest. ”You’ve got stone along with it. Have you already started combining the two?”

It shouldn’t have been surprising that Dahyun knew that, but Vivi still felt it. Had she reached out to Jungeun, Jinsoul, and Yerim as well?

“Started to,” Vivi said. Then, knowing that Dahyun would want to see it in action, she tugged on the stone. It slid through the earth. She called on the light and wove them together. 

Dahyun’s eyes filled with awe. Vivi did wish she could still have that. Her own passion for learning and all that came with it fluctuated. It had all her life, while others had seemed to be more consistent. She’d once thought it was because she was only half a fairy. 

Then she met Dahyun, whose curiosity seemed to outmatch almost everyone else Vivi knew. The emotional fairy had sensed her doubt and immediately asked why that was. It was then that she’d also confirmed that Vivi’s own curiosity was no less potent than that of others. 

“Have you tried it with gemstones?” Dahyun asked. 

“What?”

“We use excitement for light when no one wants to make a fire,” she said. “I can’t tell you how often I scrambled to get a proper bit of light when I,” she faltered, “you know.”

Vivi nodded. The emotional fat had core emotions—essentially their souls. 

Dahyun’s used to only be calm. One day, she’d gotten another: sadness. From what Vivi had seen of the fairy, it’d been painful to adjust to it. 

Dahyun had left her clan, pulling away completely from her emotional magic. She’d chosen to learn about the humans instead, getting Vivi and a few others to help. After that, she’d gone to the Astra.

Sometime during that, she’d learned that emotions could be made physical, similarly to the way light could be summoned. That discovery had given her back the will to use her emotions—to live with that new core emotion. She’d gone back to her clan and taught them the new magic. 

As far as Vivi knew, only the Astra really knew about how that discovery had been made. At first, some of the fae had been insulted that such a thing would be hidden. The emotional fae had countered that they didn’t yet know if the magic could be dangerous or helpful. 

Clearly, something was different when it came to the Astra.

“Are you more open with the Astra, because of how similar your magics are?” Vivi asked.

There was a flicker of blue in her eyes. “It’s your magic now too,” she said softly. “But yes, the Astra are well aware of how dangerous light can be for others. It didn’t take long for the same to be recognised about emotions.” She sighed. “And I can only hope that the rest will properly learn that.” Silver worry brushed across her eyes, before being replaced by pale blue. Calm. Was she doing that to calm herself down?

Then that same sort of calm washed over Vivi. The same type of clarity she felt when holding moonlight. 

Dahyun grinned. “Familiar, isn’t it?”

Vivi chuckled. “I bet you were waiting all these weeks for that moment.” 

“Certainly was,” she replied. “But to finish answering your question. Even though the light is comprised of emotion and so is darkness, it’s still so different. Emotions don’t heal physical wounds. They only soothe them, if anything.”

“They do nothing?” 

Dahyun shrugged. “I haven’t wanted to test any limits yet. 

Of course. If emotions could actually cause physical harm, the emotional fae wouldn’t have found that out. Most of them at least. 

Thankfully, not even their boundless curiosity was tempted to pursue those questions. 

“And now for my own question, which you so skilfully avoided,” Dahyun said, pride flickering in her eyes. It was almost silver. 

“How am I?” Vivi paused to think it through. It actually wasn’t a hard question to answer. “I’m alright,” she said. “Can’t say I’m great yet, but also that the terrible things from before aren’t so much anymore. Not completely at least.” She didn’t know how to describe how she felt about that. 

“You found out about that girl,” Dahyun was speaking Cantonese. Her eyes were still blue. _Now,_ she was hiding her emotions. Who knew Dahuyn could be subtle. 

Vivi was surprised, even if she shouldn’t have been. “How did you know?” Speaking that particular mortal language was also more comfortable than _crosesh._

The corner of her lip tugged up. “There are confusing sets of frustration and sympathy for three of the elves in particular. And then there’s sadness that I know is for her. Many actually feel that way.”

“You mean—” Vivi stopped herself. She had to resist gesturing to the camp. If people saw _that_ and heard that they were speaking in a language few would know, they’d definitely get suspicious. So she just smiled instead. “More people than the ones I know?”

“A large amount feel guilty. Theirs is pushed down more than others, some being more afraid than they are sympathetic.” A pause. “But what they did wasn’t truly celebrated. They were just relieved.”

Vivi met her eyes. Even with one colour, Dahyun was terrible at hiding certain feelings. Especially her sadness. Had she known Hyejoo like she seemed to know the rest?

“I’m going to look for her as well,” Dahyun said. “Perhaps not meet her, though I’m still unsure.”

“She’d want you too,” Vivi said. “She’s lonely.”

She frowned. “Is it it wrong to hope that loneliness would bring her back?”

“Back to this?” Vivi scoffed. “Fat chance of that.”

The look the fairy gave her was a sombre one. As if she was convinced of something, but her resolve was slowly being weakened. As if she was afraid of Vivi being right. Then she straightened. 

“You might be right,” Dahyun said. “But I won’t be going. I’ll see her the next time I visit.”

“And if she’s gone by then”

“I’ll find her.”

Vivi was torn between thinking Dahyun was callous and trying to figure out what the reasoning was here. Reasons that would only make sense to this fairy. She was pretty young by their standards, around half Vivi’s age. And yet she’d gotten a very bizarre maturity in the last years. Was it the sadness? The time spent alone? Or just the way Dahyun’s mind worked?

“I’m planning on taking the long way back,” she said, still in Cantonese. Maybe because falling back into fae would catch more attention. “Want to come with?”

Vivi çould only stare. “Weren’t you across the southern sea?”

A nod. “We’re enjoying it. You might too.”

She was tempted. She really was. Dahyun made for excellent company and never minded extended silences or ramblings. And Vivi trusted her. 

But Vivi had also decided to stay. She’d even told Haseul that directly. 

The thought made her pause. Was that important now? It hadn’t even been a promise, so she’d damage nothing. 

Dahyun laughed softly. Orange took over the blue. She was finished with hiding. “Understood, you’ll be staying.”

“I didn’t even decide yet!” They’d slipped into fae again. 

Her eyes were bright with green and orange. “This is one of those few things I can predict.” Her expression was extremely smug. “You’ll let me have this win, won’t you?”

Vivi fought the urge to roll her eyes. Then she nodded. 

“Well, if that’s that, I’ll be off.” Dahyun was looking in a particular direction. 

Vivi followed her gaze, but saw no one in particular. 

“I don’t much understand their plight, but it’s been on her mind for quite some time.” The fairy got to her feet. “And that sort of pain ought to be eased.” She sighed. “Somehow.” Then she put a hand on Vivi’s shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. 

“You’re serious?” Vivi smiled as she stood as well. ”A proper goodbye’s in order.”

Dahyun laughed and leaned their foreheads together. “These are good people,” she whispered. “You’ve found some of the best ones among them, but the rest still have a lot of good within them.”

“But I have to be the one to look for it?” Vivi had already done that. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to do it again. 

Dahyun’s eyes turned sad again. “It’s as you told me once. _I’m_ able to hope for the best, because my magic lets me find that without much effort,” she muttered. “But you found it with your people once before, you’ll be able to hear.”

Then she pulled away. 

Vivi sat back down, feeling both light and as if she’d been left with a few more questions. Dahyun was able to do that, with both reassurances and a pointed insights. 

Shortly after, she spotted Dahyun walking to the forest. Beside her was Heejin. 

How much did Dahyun know about the girl’s anger? 

Then the words of before sank in. What pain was Heejin facing? 

Seeing the two together now just brought more questions then answers. 

But there was one thing Vivi knew for certain. If Dahyun didn’t understand the topic at hand, then it was most likely something romantic. 

Had Vivi really wanted to know that Heejin had some sort of romantic trouble? Not quite. 

Then again, with everything else on the elf’s mind, maybe this was more of a mundane problem. 

Vivi had always preferred matters of the heart. At least she had over a lot of the other things she’d faced with her clan. She wondered if that would be the same here. 

_____

“I’ll be leaving soon.” The gentle voice broke Heejin out of her thoughts. 

She looked up. Dahyun was looking down at her with dark gold and blue eyes. Curious, potentially concerned, and sad. 

It didn’t take much to realise that Dahyun was looking through her emotions. 

“Still have someone to help?” Some of the elders had asked her to tell them what else they could do to better the healing processes. A rare example of the Astra letting down their pride. Heejin was beyond thankful they were reaching out. She just hoped Dahyun wouldn’t be overworked because of it. 

“One.” Dahyun raised a brow. “Care to start your guard duty early?” 

Clearly, the fairy didn’t like what she’d seen in Heejin’s emotions. 

They walked in silence. Heejin felt a pleasant surge of calm. Dahyun’s influence. 

Once they were out of earshot, Dahyun turned to her. 

“Why are you in such pain?” she asked. 

Straight to the point. Dahyun rarely spoke around something. 

“It’s tied to Hyunjin,” she said. “Has she done something?” 

Heejin shook her head. “It’s nothing she did.”

“Just the circumstance?” Her eyes brightened with gold. Confusion. And, naturally, even though Dahyun could read emotions, she didn’t understand a key few.

“Like before,” Heejin had to laugh, “but it’s not something I think you can help with.”

Dahyun frowned. “I told that to Hyunjin too.”

When had she told Hyunjin that? And why had she spoken to Dahyun about this? Heejin hadn’t heard a word from Hyunjin about the bond or anything related to the two of them. 

“I can’t take the pain away,” Dahyun said. 

Heejin felt a knot in her throat. “She asked you to do that?” 

Dahyun started. Then she grimaced. She wasn’t supposed to have said that. 

Heejin wasn’t sure if that made it worse or not. 

“What else did she ask you for?” Heejin was surprised at how steady her voice was. 

Dahyun shook her head. “I can’t say.”

“You just told me that. I don’t know anything more,” she said. “I don’t know _why_.” She knew the reason, but not what Hyunjin had been feeling. She’d never known what had happened after Hyunjin had left. 

Dahyun’s eyes were a deep blue. “I’ve already said too much today. I won’t say more of what I shouldn’t.” She looked at her. “I’ve already hurt you.” 

“It’ll hurt me more not to know.” Heejin could feel her nose start to burn. She forced the tears to stay away. “Because she won’t tell me about any of this.” 

Then Dahyun turned around. Her eyes were half filled with surprise. 

Heejin did the same. 

Hyunjin was standing a few metres away. She was looking between them, her expression blank. 

But Heejin still saw the strain in her eyes. 

“I’ll tell you,” Hyunjin said quietly. “Do you want to be there for that?” She looked too Dahyun. 

The fairy shook her head. “This is something for the two of you.” Then she gave them both a warm smile, even though her eyes were still sad. 

Hyunjin watched her go, arms crossed. 

It was a familiar urge that Heejin had to resist. She wanted to take her hand, tell her that everything was alright. But even then, she wasn’t sure if things were. Hyunjin was still hurt. Heejin hadn’t even sensed her light. She usually could. 

And with what she’d just learned, she needed to hear the reason why. She wasn’t sure if that would make it better or worse. 

“I’ll just say it,” Hyunjin muttered. “After I left, I wanted to stop loving you.” 

The words hurt more than Heejin had expected them to. 

Hyunjin winced. “I didn’t know how I’d do it. Leaving was the first way I saw, being with other people was the next.”

Heejin thought of Arin. Were there others Hyunjin had been with too?

“And when none of it worked,” she sighed, “I went to Dahyun for help.” She rubbed across the skin of her arms, as if cold. She probably was. “I didn’t want any compulsion or spell put on me, making me forget all the reasons why I,” she faltered. “I just needed something that wouldn’t mess with my mind, just how I felt.” 

“So you asked her,” Heejin could barely say the words, “if she could take it away for you.” It hadn’t just been pain. She’d wanted all of it taken away. 

“She couldn’t,” Hyunjin said. Heejin didn’t miss the bitterness in her voice. “Clearly.” 

“Would you have told me?”

She looked taken aback. 

Heejin wasn’t sure if she was overstepping a line. Hyunjin hadn’t lost those feelings, but she’d wanted to. Heejin had wanted many things, but never that. 

“Or let me figure it out myself?” Heejin asked. “When you came back and didn’t feel anything for me?” 

“I just asked her to take one thing out,” Hyunjin replied. She didn’t look irritated. Maybe the emotions Dahyun had given her were helping. “That wouldn’t have meant I felt nothing.” She wasn’t looking at her. 

“Love connects to a lot of other things,” Heejin retorted. “It wouldn’t have just taken away the pain you’re feeling.” 

“I know that.” Her jaw was clenched. “It would’ve taken pieces of me away. We can’t lose emotions like they can.” She met her eyes, the yellow in her own still dim. “Good explanation enough for you? I wanted to lose what I felt, went to her, and she told me I couldn’t.” She turned away fully. “So nothing’s changed since I left.” 

“Is that so bad?” Heejin asked. She looked around, searching for the light of anyone else nearby. There was no one. So she moved so that Hyunjin would look at her again. 

Hyunjin shook her head. “I didn’t tell you what happened so we’d have this conversation again.” 

“We never really had it.” Heejin remembered all too well how Hyunjin had looked after the bond had been revealed. She remembered how she’d felt herself. And how lonely she’d been without her. “And I tried to see what it was that bound me to Priad,” she said. “He can be a friend, but that’s all.” 

She kept shaking her head. “You didn’t try hard enough,” she muttered. “You’re still stuck on trying to find all the ways he’s not the one for you.” 

“Because he’s not.” Heejin knew she sounded harsher in saying that. If someone overheard, they’d be appalled. She almost wished someone had. It would bring out the truth they’d been hiding. She'd rather work to make them accept that the moon could be wrong than hide. 

“Don’t say that,” Hyunjin glared at her, “that’s exactly why you haven’t given him a place in your life. You’re not letting yourself see what the moon’s given to you.” 

She frowned. “It didn’t give me anything.” 

“Yes it did,” she snapped. “His soul is tied to yours. He'll be able to make you feel at home when you're near. He'll know if you’re hurt and his light will heal you better than anyone else’s.” Hyunjin let out a sharp breath. “You can’t deny that just because you couldn’t keep what you had first.”

“That’s not fair,” Heejin said quietly. She already had one of those things, but she didn’t say that. 

Something in Hyunjin deflated then, but she didn’t respond. 

“I’m not losing anything if I don’t agree with what the moon wants.” 

“You lose the person it chose for you.”

“I’m not losing someone I love,” Heejin replied. “But I do if I go along with what it wants.” 

Hyunjin closed her eyes. “Don’t say that to me.” 

“Why not?” Her eyes were burning again, but she drove the tears away. She was already making this hard for Hyunjin, she knew that. She wouldn’t make it worse by crying. “I loved you before I knew about the bond. Learning about it didn’t change that, you leaving for years didn’t change it either.”

No response. Hyunjin’s hands were fisted at her sides. The look in her eyes was painful to see. 

“You said that didn’t change for you either,” Heejin said. “You meant that, didn’t you?” _Do you still love me?_ That was a question she couldn’t ask, even if they were so close to it. Even if she’d gotten something very close to an answer. 

Hyunjin still said nothing. 

Heejin didn’t push her. She waited, though all of her wanted to know the answer. 

She slowly reached out and put her hands over Hyunjin’s fists. 

Hyunjin’s eyes opened. There was such pain there. Seeing it made Heejin’s chest ache. 

“I wish I could tell you I don’t love you,” Hyunjin whispered. “Or that I never did.” She blinked. A tear fell. “But both would be a lie.”

Heejin could’ve smiled. She felt her joy like the warm air of a fire. But Hyunjin didn’t look happy about her words. She looked worse because of it. 

“And I’d break your heart if I told that lie,” she continued. “I never want to do that to you.” Her eyes flicked down to the ground. 

“But you could have,” Heejin said. “If Dahyun had said yes.” It would be worse than any other unrequited love. It would be a love lost completely, but one Heejin would still have to feel.

“I know,” Hyunjin looked defeated, “I knew that hearing it would hurt you too, I—” She faltered. “I tried everything already and it didn’t work. But you—”

“You’re saying I have to do it myself,” Heejin said. “I’m the one who has to turn away.” She brushed her thumbs across Hyunjin’s hands. She felt them start to relax. “That won’t work.”

Hyunjin hadn’t pulled away yet. “Try.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to.” 

Yellow eyes closed again. “Please,” she murmured. 

“Please what?” Heejin asked. “Lie to myself and you? Should I tell you I don’t feel anything?”

Again, Hyunjin didn’t respond. That meant yes. 

“I can’t do that,” she said. 

“You never tried.” Hyunjin’s brow furrowed. “You didn’t accept the bond when they told you about it. And you never tried to see its value either.” 

“I did try,” Heejin said. “When you left, I did try to see what I was supposed to love about Priad.”

She didn’t miss how Hyunjin winced. 

“I didn’t find enough. Everything he had, you did too. What he didn’t have, you did,” she let go of one hand to cup Hyunjin’s face, “how can you tell me this isn’t right?” 

Being so near to her, when nothing had happened, when they were just able to speak to one another—it made her very aware of the girl in front of her. She could almost feel the pain coursing through Hyunjin now. 

Hyunjin’s heart had broken on that day. Heejin had been angry, but she’d not thought she’d lost Hyunjin. She’d never thought she’d lost her. Hyunjin had thought she’d lost Heejin. Heejin wanted nothing more than to tell her she hadn’t. 

“Hyun,” Heejin whispered. “What if the moon was wrong?”

Hyunjin held her gaze. Heejin welcomed every moment she could look into them, even if what she saw pained her. She couldn’t read what she saw now. She thought she saw longing. 

“Don’t start asking that,” she said, a plea in her eyes. “Don’t act as if this would work.” Then she took Heejin’s hands in hers, before pulling them away. “I told you what happened.” She let go. “So unless you need to ask more, I’m going back.” She glanced at the forest around them. ”You’ll have more spirits coming than if I’m not here.”

A terrible excuse. Heejin didn’t know why Hyunjin had to say it. Maybe she was just filling the silence, trying to get back into a false sense of normalcy. 

“Okay,” Heejin held out a piece of moonlight, “take this? For the walk back.” 

Hyunjin eyed it for a long moment. Heejin nearly took it back. She’d pushed Hyunjin a lot, maybe too much. 

Then she took it. It melted into her skin. 

When Heejin looked up, she saw that Hyunjin’s eyes had gotten a slight glow to them. 

“Thank you.” The corner of her lip tugged up. Then it fell again. “I’m sorry.” She turned and walked away. 

The ache hadn’t subsided. Without Hyunjin near, the weight of what she’d heard settled over her. 

Nothing had changed. Hyunjin had tried to stop loving her, but hadn’t been able to. 

And she still wished she could stop feeling what she did. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part of the story has been about revealing certain pieces of the characters. Be it to the person themselves, or those close to them. And who better to reveal that, sometimes accidentally, than a person whose magic involves reading your emotions. 
> 
> Not much has been happening around here, but the next chapters will pick up. I hope the last two chapters haven't been boring, as I've wanted to shed a bit more light on the different circumstances of the characters. At times, I think I chose to explore too many at once. Other times, I just love weaving in the multiple story-lines. 
> 
> Would love to know your thoughts! See you in the next chapter.


	27. I saw her

“Jiwoo?” a voice broke through the bustle of the tavern. 

Chuu started, nearly spilling her drink. The place she’d discovered had better soju than others. She should’ve known that the others would come there. She’d hoped they’d have just gone to the more refined places. “Hi?” 

Sooyoung sat down in front of her, a frown on her face. “Why’re you here?” Her now brown eyes made her look less ethereal, but no less beautiful. Chuu already saw how the eyes drifted towards her. She herself was more unassuming. She also never tried to look confident around the mortals. They seemed to be attracted to that. 

“I have the day and the night off.” _And the world around me is getting darker._ She didn’t add the last part, but it spurred her to pour another glass. Surprisingly, it hadn’t taken much to give Chuu a buzz. She knew she got easily intoxicated from the wines and other terrible drinks Jinsoul sometimes brought back from the rest of the world. And she had no intention of being drunk, only to have a lightheartedness. 

She did feel light, but the rest of her still felt heavy. Why people felt it necessary to drink away their sorrows, she could hardly understand. She was already starting to feel disappointed in herself. Was she really trying to help herself through a drink? 

At least the drink tasted good. And she'd actually enjoyed being surrounded by complete strangers. Some said that being alone was dangerous. Had Chuu not had her magic, let alone her enhanced strength, she would've agreed. 

“You were going to gather news.”

“I did.” Chuu patted the light cloth bag. “Nothing much of interest.” Only more information on the different tasks Hyejoo had been doing. No mortals had been killed. For that Chuu was thankful. 

She looked around, finding the others engaging in conversation with a smaller group of guards. They were young. 

“I think I’ll be going,” Chuu took out the money and drank the rest, “the next place ought to have more to tell.” It made sense. Hyejoo would have had an aura that few mortals would want to face. She’d go to the more dangerous of places. There, at least, people wouldn’t pay too much mind if someone was threatening. Then again, the view of women among most humans was still flawed. While she had no doubt that Hyejoo could handle herself, the attempts of men to take advantage of her had the potential to be dangerous. For them. 

A hand gripped her wrist. She hadn’t seen it coming. That was becoming more frequent. “Next time.” 

“I won’t be stumbling my way over,” Chuu laughed, “though that might help me get in.” She got to her feet. She was hardly dizzy. Was it her mind that was healing now? Maybe she'd ask Jinsoul. "I've also got to get a wolf some chains." Even though a full moon caused the transformation, a bit of moonlight laid across restraints seemed to soothe a wolf. It at least kept them in one place longer than normal. And if a werewolf was on the loose, any time they could win could save a life. 

Sooyoung didn’t let go, but stood with her. Then she said, “I’ll come with you.” 

“You’ll come _along_?” She spared another glance at the table, only to see Teveril glancing over at them now and then. “I think someone will miss you.” 

Her eyes didn’t leave hers. “This’s important.” 

“You having fun is important,” Chuu replied. “And I’ll tell you everything.” She patted her hand and pulled her arm away. “When I go back.” 

Sooyoung frowned. "You don’t want me with you?” 

“That’s not it,” she protested. She wondered if it would have been better if she'd said yes. “It’ll just be better for both of us tonight.” Already, pits of jealousy were forming. She wouldn’t stay, but she also didn’t want to know much else about the rest. 

The hurt flickered across her eyes. “Alright.”

Chuu wished she could explain more, but that would just bring more questions than she ever wanted answered. And with what had happened recently, she’d been getting worse at hiding her sight. So much had been happening, too quickly at that. Like with Hyunjin, Yerim, and Yeojin. She would've been a fool to not follow what the moon had shown her just to keep a secret. 

“Don’t frown,” she said softly. “I’m a little more capable than you think.”

Sooyoung smiled, but it was weak. “It’s not that I’m worried about.” 

“Then you don’t have to worry at all.” Chuu grinned at her and left. It didn’t feel like the right way to talk to her, but she didn’t know how else to do it. If she spoke and acted as she wanted to, she’d do everything _wrong_. And then they'd fall into something determined by fate. That was something Sooyoung wouldn't want. 

It was better this way.

She was reminded of that when she heard Sooyoung’ low laugh. She could feel how the light around Sooyoung brightened then. This was how it had to be. Even if the light binding them still hadn’t dimmed, it would. Eventually.

And then both of them would be free of it. 

______

Five years ago 

_“You know,” Sooyoung smiled, “it’s really incredible what you can sometimes see.” Her red eyes had glazed over. She was looking into the past. That aspect of the sight was more common, but most people used it only regarding vampires. Chuu had always wished she'd been able to do that._

_Chuu nodded, before realising Sooyoung wouldn't have seen that. “The past is, by all other accounts, more richer than the future.”_

_Her gaze focused and she grinned at her. “Don’t lie,” she chided, “you’re always looking forward.”_

_The heat rushed up her face. She looked away, hoping that would just make her just seem bashful. “Tell me about what you were looking for.”_

_“I saw temples being built,” Sooyoung said, awe in her voice. “The humans had slaves do that work, slaves made from other humans,” she frowned, “but they made great stone constructs. Ones that’re still all there.” Her eyes lit up. “They’re in the places where there’s a great deal more heat and few forests,” she said. “But we could get there through the water?”_

_Just through the enthusiasm, Chuu could feel how far off it was. She saw a faint glow around it. They’d go there. Eventually. “We’ll go,” Chuu replied._

_Sooyoung took her hand, as though it were a simple thing to do. “Just like that?”_

_“Just like that.” It only took one look at Sooyoung’s face to know how much she’d love that journey. And if it was possible, Chuu’d never quell the hope for that. Not even if it would help her._

_A long pause followed then._

_Chuu glanced up then, only to meet Sooyoung’ eyes._

_“Thank you for being okay with that,” the other elf said._

_Chuu smiled. “Did you think I wouldn’t be?”_

_“It’s not that,” Sooyoung squeezed her hand, “it’s just that sometimes I feel like—“ She stopped then._

_“Like?”_

_She bit her lip. “I,” she stammered, “what do_ you _want to do? What's a place you've always wanted to go to?"_

_This was coming out of nowhere. Chuu’s mind was empty with those questions._

_“You never talk about what you want.” Sooyoung leaned forward. “Did you even want to go to the colder south?”_

_She laughed slightly. “It always became worthwhile,” she replied. “I usually didn’t understand until we got there.” But after she knew the story, after she’d seen Sooyoung's smile as she told it, then she’d known why._

_“That doesn’t answer my question.”_

_“I like the past,” Chuu said. “I just never know where to look. You do.” She looked up at her. “So once you or Chaewon knew where you wanted to go, that’s where I wanted to go too.”_

_“And what about the rest?” Sooyoung’s brow furrowed. “You just want to do what we always do in the forest?”_

_“You mean live?” Chuu raised a brow. “Our life’s filled with magic and all that comes with it.” She smiled. “And on top of it, we get to have everything else we already do."_

_She sighed. “You make me sound ungrateful.” She shifted closer to her._

_“You aim higher than I do,” Chuu replied. “My gaze is forward and—hopefully—around me.” She tried not to dwell on how close Sooyoung still wanted to be. Even though the dynamic between them had been strained every now and then, be it through arguments or moments when Sooyoung had caught her in a lie._

_“That’s not all you do,” Sooyoung said. “You make everything brighter. And I know you mean every word you use to do that.” Her grip on Chuu’s hand tightened. “And I asked you what you want because, well, I know I’m not doing the same for you.”_

_She frowned. “What’s brought this on?”_

_“A feeling,” the other said quietly. “And I know I should’ve noticed this sooner.”_

_“Known what? You don’t have to do anything for me,” Chuu tried for a smile, “you’re already doing too much.”_

_Sooyoung’s expression didn’t soften. “You help all of us by being sure we’ll be alright. You help me when you encourage me, and tell me that the dumb things I did were also for a reason.” A small chuckle. “But who’s saying those things to you? Who’s making time to hear what your plans are? To know where you next want to go?”_

_Chuu felt a small tug in her chest. She felt anxious. “I hope you’re not trying to tell me I’m lonely.” If Sooyoung was going to tell her she needed a proper confidant, she wasn’t sure how she’d react. Not to mention that was her_ and _Chaewon's job._

_Her eyes widen. “No!” She sighed. “That sounded so wrong, didn’t it?” She rested her head in her hands. “I wanted to say that I have to be doing all that. And that you have to tell me what’s in that head of yours.” She peeked up at her._

_Her face warmed again. This time Chuu didn’t avert her eyes. “Very little, usually.”_

_Sooyoung gave her a look. “I mean it, Jiwoo.” She lifted her head again. “You’re always focused on the things you can do and will do, but you never tell me until you’ve done it.” She squinted at her. “Even when you’re setting me up, I'm barely ready for it.”_

_Now she looked away, hoping to find some sort of refuge in the bustle of their people. “You work best spontaneously.”_

_Sooyoung poked her side. “I work with a plan really well too.”_

_Chuu laughed. “But even better when you don’t have one.”_

_She raised a brow. “Is that even a compliment?”_

_“Of course,” Chuu nodded, “how many times has an impulsive decision helped you more than one you deliberated over?”_

_Sooyoung said nothing._

_Chuu gently pat the top of her head. “I mean it in the best way I could. I trust those decisions.” Sometimes, the unpredictability of it was remarkably refreshing. It caught her off guard, throwing certain pieces into oblivion and bringing new ones. It was one of the few times Chuu liked to pay attention to the future. She liked to see how Sooyoung’s decisions changed it, how Sooyoung almost always managed to step off her path._

_“Not always,” she muttered._

_“What do you mean?” Chuu gave her a look. “When did I not?”_

_“Oh,” Sooyoung searched the sky, “when I wanted to court that human girl in the north, when I wanted to teach Chaewon how to hunt, when I wanted to be courted by the human boy here…” She looked at her. “Should I go on?”_

_It wasn't hard to see that Sooyoung was avoiding one particular decision. One where they'd both trusted the judgments of their elders, as well as each other's. They'd all been so wrong._

_“No need,” Chuu laughed, “but I never blocked you from ‘courting’ them, only the part where you make yourself the love of their life.”_

_She rolled her eyes. “I would’ve made their worlds brighter.”_

_“And left a longer shadow.” Immortals always suffered if they fell for a mortal. Vampires occasionally turned their human lovers, but immortality was difficult to reach for the rest. Chuu knew of some elves who'd fallen deeply for mortals, only to have their hearts twisted when those mortals died._

_Sooyoung sighed. “I know.” She looked up at her through her lashes. “Am I that bad?”_

_Chuu shook her head. “You only heard one thing I said. And the rest you jumped to by yourself.” Even saying that, she couldn’t help but wonder if Sooyoung did doubt how the way she acted. Many times, it was driven by impulse, which was itself not a bad thing. It just had poor consequences._

_“You didn’t deny it.”_

_“I’m denying it now,” Chuu replied. “There’s a balance to be found. I’ll just be the weight on the other end until—” she faltered.“For the next time you decide you want to draw out another human.”_

_Sooyoung didn’t notice. She only leaned her head on Chuu’s shoulder. “No humans. After seeing a few of the rest falling into that slump, I don’t want to put myself through that.”_

_“Heartbreak,” Chuu corrected. “Not a weird slump, even if that might’ve followed.”_

_“From something so brief?” Sooyoung asked. “It wasn’t like Sunmi—” She sighed, her shoulders drooping at the thought of the vampire. “Is it because I caused it with them?”_

_This wasn’t a conversation she wanted to be involved in. But to avoid it would make it worse. “I don’t think so,” she half-lied. “It might be more that when it ends, you’re more disappointed and instead of feeling trapped when it ends.”_

_A surprised laugh came then. “You sound like an expert.”_

_An even worse portion of the conversation. “I wouldn’t say that.”_

_Sooyoung’s head shot up. “You loved someone?” Her eyes narrowed. “And they hurt you?”_

_Much much worse. “They didn’t hurt me,” Chuu tried to placate her, “it just happened.” She tried to relax, hoping it would be enough. “But that was a while ago.”_

_“You never told me.” There was something in Sooyoung’s voice. Disappointment that Chuu wouldn’t have told her?_

_“It was a fleeting thing,” she told her. “Nothing that important.”_

_Sooyoung nodded and went back to leaning on Chuu’s shoulder. “But if you ever pointed them out to me, I could teach them a little lesson.”_

_“No need,” Chuu chuckled, “they wouldn’t even know what you were attacking them for.”_

_They fell into a comfortable silence. Chuu was still surprised at how close their words had gotten to her secrets. She was relieved at how quickly Sooyoung could move on with something. She was also unsettled by how easy it was for her to lie._

_No. It had_ become _easier. She couldn’t forget that._

______

Chuu had gotten a fair amount of stares when she’d gotten in, even more when she’d sat at a table alone. None had come to join her. Perhaps they thought her a madwoman. It was better that way. 

The moon had given her a path to follow, a faint one laced with grey. She didn’t know why that would be important. Either the moon was actually helping her or it’d taken pity on her. It would be the first she’d seen of the moon showing anything like that. 

Chuu had sat there. She’d not touched her drink, but listened to the conversation around her. 

The attack on the nobleman had reached this tavern too, but in this story he’d been tortured. The ‘wraith’ had attacked him solely for the reason that he was a corrupt man in power. 

_He’d had it coming to him_ , was the general sentiment. 

That only increased the questions Chuu had. If this man was truly so hated that his comeuppance was no surprise, then was the purpose behind Hyejoo being here righteous? Had it been right to send her? 

And would there be others? What few stories had had merit to them had spoken of things Chuu was _convinced_ could never have been Hyejoo. Madness through fear, bodies mutilated, or homes corrupted by darkness—she knew that Hyejoo wasn’t capable of it. If she’d stepped away from killing a man, that was proof enough for it. 

There was a sharp intake of breath at neighbouring tables. Chuu watched as the shadow of her drink on the table grew sharper. A grey and white path appeared in front of her. She looked up. 

The air changed when she saw her. The future became a distant thought and only the present was what mattered. Hyejoo was _here_. In front of her. At the door. 

She’d grown thinner. Her cheeks and eyes had a hollow edge to them. She was still beautiful, but hauntingly so. Her eyes were darker than they had been, not even reflecting the firelight of candles scatted throughout the small building. 

Those eyes were wide with alarm. Then they narrowed. The surprise in them was replaced by hatred.

Hyejoo turned away, the door opening with a smack against the wall. Then she was gone. The path Chuu was on faded. 

Chuu followed. The sudden movement made her dizzy, but she didn’t stop. She needed to speak to her. She needed to know how she was. Other questions came to mind, but she pushed them down. 

They reached the farming grounds quickly. Hyejoo showed no signs of slowing. Her form became darker in the night, despite the moon casting long shadows tonight. 

“Stop,” Chuu got out. She ran faster. 

Hyejoo didn’t respond. She only sped up. She’d been strong before, but not fast. 

Fleetingly, Chuu wondered whether or not it was because she’d had experience running from threats. She pushed those thoughts down. 

The dark haired girl made for the trees. She was only a shadow under the moonlight. Her hair didn’t whip around as she ran, nor did the cloak she wore. She just glided across the ground. 

“Wait!” Chuu tried to push her legs to get her there faster. She let moonlight seep into her muscles to soften the ache developing in them. 

And then a tall shadow rose up in front of her. Chuu stumbled, before slipping past it. The air around it was freezing. Chuu felt fear within it. 

The next one came, each larger than the next. The distance between her and Hyejoo grew with each one. Chuu felt a mix of fear and anger each time she dodged one. 

The shadow disappeared into the trees. Chuu entered the forest some seconds later. She heard the footfalls, but saw nothing save for the dark outlines of trees. Deeper into the forest, she saw only darkness. 

She gritted her teeth and drew on the light. The path Hyejoo had left was as dark as the rest of the forests. The grey and white had vanished. Concentrating on it hurt and her eyes strained to make out its outline. 

She’d lost her. Hyejoo had _run_ from her. And her eyes when she’d seen her. Chuu’s own burned at the memory. 

She sighed and turned away from the darkness. Her path back to the town had already been illuminated. It felt like a taunt. The moon had known that Hyejoo wouldn’t have stopped for her. It’d known she’d fail. 

______

Jiwoo still hadn’t come back. It was nearing the night of the _next_ _day_. Where had she gone? 

Yves knew she was fine, but only in the way that she knew Heejin and Haseul were fine. They were out patrolling. She didn’t know if they were happy, running from something, or sleeping. 

Had Jiwoo just gone to another locale for drinks? It wasn’t like her to even want to drink for fun. She barely liked the taste of the better wines. How could she suddenly want to have soju?

And then there had been that look in her eyes, one that Yves had immediately wanted to erase. It was haunted. Was it because of Hyejoo? Or something else? Yves hadn’t known that something could affect Jiwoo to that degree. It bothered her that she was surprised. She usually knew if something was unsettling her. Jiwoo always knew if something was wrong with her and usually came to talk to to her about it. 

And the peach-eyed elf had confided in her about her guilt over what had happened with Hyejoo. They hadn’t tried to rationalise what they’d done—or what they hadn’t done. They’d just withheld their tears as they’d held Chaewon, reassuring her that Hyejoo would be alright, that they’d try to find her again. And when they weren’t around Chaewon, Yves had been there to catch Jiwoo. The guilt had torn her apart in the first years. Jiwoo had stomached it with a signature smile and bounce to her step, but she hadn’t ever slept. They could manage without it, using the moonlight to supplement that, but at some point, even the light couldn’t restore someone completely. 

That point had come during a hunt. Jiwoo was the one who’d needed to land the blow. She’d collapsed after summoning her spear. The spirit hadn’t been the issue. Chaewon and Yves had managed to bring it down with ease. All that she’d been able to think about was Jiwoo’s limp form. Before then, she’d only ever seen strength wrapped in kindness. She hadn’t realised how much Jiwoo had been struggling. Jiwoo had been hiding her, and Yves hadn't been able to notice it. 

Was this another moment where Yves couldn’t see? She was watching, but perhaps that was the issue. She wasn’t good enough to spot those changes. 

Except for yesterday. She’d seen it then. But only because Jiwoo had thought she’d be alone. She’d decided to keep her thoughts to herself. 

Yves needed to convince her otherwise. She didn’t want Jiwoo’s energy to leave her as it did. With the spirits getting more dangerous, Jiwoo put herself at risk by letting the thoughts overcome her. Yves also couldn’t let her drown in them. It wasn’t how Jiwoo worked. And if she was turning to going off on her own, finding ways to occupy her time that she otherwise wouldn’t have ever turned to, then Yves needed to be there to pull her out. 

Yves stood, knowing that her movements surprised others. “I need water,” she lied. 

“Little late, eh?” Teveril chuckled.

She nodded. “Maybe.”

"Want me to come with you?" He looked hopeful. 

Yves nearly felt bad for saying no. He was actually kind, even if there was sometimes arrogance. Yves wasn't the most humble person either. Jiwoo and Chaewon had always balanced that out. Hyejoo had too. Once. 

She just shook her head, before walking off to the woods. She tried to find Jiwoo. 

She wasn’t good at sifting through light. That was where Jiwoo excelled. She always knew where to go, her sudden purpose unexpected, but always correct. 

Yves felt incompetent in comparison. Wasn’t she supposed to have grasped this by now? Affinities could be had to different elements of their magic, but those could be overcome. If she wanted to, she could learn to glean from the future as seers could. She'd learned to do that with the past, after repeatedly dreaming of ancient structures and mortal battles. She'd never wanted to devote the years to learning it. Something about knowing the future scared her. Those she’d seen born with the sight had always seemed more troubled than insightful. She never asked them about what they saw for that reason. She also didn’t want to know. Better to act freely than with a watchful eye on every single action.

Her future could've easily been spent with Teveril and the rest tonight. She could've been going to sleep. She'd decided to look for Jiwoo. She’d leave it at that. Some would say she spent too long in the past, but there was so much more to know there. 

And she hoped to hone her sight there further. Maybe she'd learn something about Hyejoo and her darkness. Or she’d find something about what they could try next regarding the spirits. She rarely saw spirits in the past, but perhaps she could pinpoint a moment when they changed. When the darkness had strengthened. Or when the light itself had changed. Seeing the past of immortals was more difficult. She didn't know why. 

Yves closed her eyes, looking past how the light shone around her, marking either spirits or the other elves. She looked for the threads of light most familiar to her, the ones that shone the brightest to her. 

And that was when she found a distant glow. She didn’t know what about it she was seeing, but she knew Jiwoo was coming back. A small pressure started to build in her chest. 

Yves started to walk faster. If she saw her soon and far away enough from the rest, they could start talking properly. Jiwoo could admit that something was troubling her to Yves. Usually. 

She saw the pale glow first. Then she heard slow steps, but they still had a spring to them. She was tired, but in decent spirits. 

There was a small falter. She’d only seen Yves now. That meant she’d been lost in her thoughts. 

“You can have today off as well,” Yves said. “Myarrar brought down a fair amount today and Yeojin made her best dish yet out of one.”

“I’ll definitely eat,” Jiwoo replied. “But I’ve had my days off.” She bounded over to her, a small smile on her face. “Miss me?” 

“Yes.” She nearly took her hand, but thought against it. Jiwoo sometimes got startled by it. “What did you find?” 

The smile disappeared. “I saw her.”

Yves’ heart lurched. 

“Really?” 

The corner of Jiwoo’s lip twitched. “She saw me and ran.” She looked away. “I followed her, but she,” her brow furrowed, “put shadows in my path.” 

She felt cold then. She looked at Jiwoo closer to see if there was any strange light to her, or a shadow she hadn’t noticed. 

“I’m alright,” Jiwoo said hastily. 

“No.” Yves only had to look in her eyes for that. It hadn’t hurt to see her, let alone chase after her. It had hurt that Hyejoo had run. 

The other girl didn’t respond. She bit her lip and looked away. Would she tell her about how disappointed she was? Or try to keep that a secret? Suddenly, pressing her for answers didn’t seem like the right thing to do. The look in Jiwoo’s eyes was fragile. 

“They way she looked at me,” Jiwoo murmured. She blinked, but no tears fell. “It was only for a moment. She’d been scared. And then furious.” Her mouth opened, before closing again. “Sooyoung, she–she,” she blinked again, shaking her head, “she hates me.” 

Yves pulled Jiwoo into a hug. She didn’t have to ask this time. Jiwoo couldn’t hide how much this hurt. And the truth of it wrapped itself around Yves’ heart as well. “She hates _us_ ,” she said. “Everyone who turned away.”

“But we were the ones who should’ve stood with her.” The words were shaky, but still said with such certainty. 

The hold around her heart tightened. It hurt. “I know,” Yves said. “But we didn’t.” They weren’t the words that would help, but she didn’t know if there were words that could erase that look in Jiwoo’s eyes or the pain Yves now felt. 

Only a change would help that. A change that would let black eyes look at them with love instead of hatred and anger. And that was impossible. 

Then Jiwoo pulled away. She wiped at her eyes. “I’ll go tell,” she faltered. She looked to the ground. “Yerim. I’ll see how she’s doing and tell her about earlier.” 

“Don’t you want to eat first?” Yves didn’t want her to go so soon. She hadn’t shut her out this time, but was she going to now?

She shook her head. “Not hungry.” 

Two words. That was all it took. Yves’s heart sank. She’d lost her for the day. Just like she had before. Had she gone looking for Jiwoo then, would she have found her after she'd gone after Hyejoo? Could Yves have started to shave off the pain Jiwoo was feeling now?

Yves forced herself to try again. “Can I come with you?” she asked. “I can wait outside if she doesn’t want me there.” 

Jiwoo just smiled. It was the one she used to comfort others. The one she’d use to tell Yves to leave. “I’m pretty sure you’re too hungry for that. I heard your stomach growling earlier.” Her peach-coloured eyes brightened ever so slightly. “So get to dinner and I’ll join a bit later.” She patted Yves arm. It was supposed to be a kind gesture. 

Then she walked off through the trees, her steps easy. The ache in Yves' chest had grown stronger. 

It felt a bit like a stab. Jiwoo would excuse herself with kind words and a warm smile, but they were still excuses. She didn’t want Yves to be around her for long, if at all. And she still didn’t know why. Whatever it was, Jiwoo hadn’t felt the need to tell her. Was it because she thought she’d complicate things more than they already were? Or because the truth would hurt her? 

______

The sadness was working. Almost too well. Choerry felt as if her entire body had doubled in weight. Moving took more effort than it had when she’d first gotten hurt. 

But it was working. She needed to focus on that and just bear the feelings going through her now. 

She forced herself to her feet. That involved a combination of getting the earth to push herself up and getting a staff of it to lean on. 

She didn’t dare summon any light. She wasn’t even sure if she’d be able to. Choerry counted herself lucky for still having magic without the light. She couldn’t imagine how other Astra felt after getting attacked by a bright spirit. 

Choerry’s bit of exercise involved growing her dirt hut as she walked. She almost smiled thinking about how it looked from the outside, but the muscles to smile were also heavy. She really didn’t like how the sadness was affecting her, but at least the uncomfortable warmth was gone. 

Her legs were stiff from lying around. Her other one hurt with most movements, but she needed to move. The darkness had gone, now she just had the light. And her injuries were healed enough that she could move around. 

She wondered how Hyunjin was doing. She wanted to see her, but she knew Hyunjin needed all the time she could get in the moonlight. 

At the very least, she knew she was okay. 

And Yeojin was talking to her now, as well as already healed from the injuries she’d gotten. Another good thing to add to the list. 

Choerry knew that Yeojin had been put off by the way she always acted. She knew that a lot of people were overwhelmed by her. The ones closest to her were the ones who could put up with that. 

Jinsoul and Jungeun were the exceptions to that, having seen her both shy and homesick. Hyejoo and Hyunjin had come next, with Hyunjin’s fascination for her nature magic being the ice-breaker. Choerry hadn’t expected Hyejoo to put up with her like others had, but she’d done it. And with her had come Gowon, who’d immediately been more open than her dark-haired counterpart. That openness had been buried somewhere now. 

Choerry had also learned early on that Chuu had the potential to be just as lively. That side had come out during better times, as well as when life was completely separate from Astran issues. 

She hadn’t seen Jiwoo’s carefree side in years. At least not for long. 

She wondered if Hyejoo had found people to make her laugh as hard as they’d used to. She hoped she had, but a big part of her doubted that. She hated how everything had fallen apart. She wanted Hyejoo had her family again. She wanted Jiwoo to burst into giggles at the smallest of things. She wanted to slip potions into different cooking pots with Hyejoo and Hyunjin. She wanted Gowon to actually crack a smile again. 

Choerry kicked at the wall of her hut. Her bad leg started to burn a moment later, even though she'd kicked with the other leg. She winced and took a deep breath. Anger made the light stronger, just as it could strengthen the darkness. How one emotion could apply to both light and darkness, she didn’t understand. Somehow, it made perfect sense to that Dahyun girl. 

She took her mind away from the past. There was a lot she wanted and much of that were things she’d never get. She’d been trying to make peace with that for years. She hadn’t managed it yet. 

Then she heard someone coming closer. Peach weaved through their light. Chuu. She was early. Choerry knew that Heejin had planned to come, then Jinsoul. She thought Chuu would’ve stayed clear of crossing paths with Heejin. 

When Choerry let the dirt fall, she spotted light surges in the distance. She could see them without her head burning. At least she had that. At least she was healing. 

A very tired looking Chuu appeared. Some of the tension in her face faded when she saw her. It’d been a bad day. 

Choerry smiled and made the strawberry bush grow taller in front of her. 

Chuu chuckled and plucked one off. “Thanks.” She took a small bite. 

“Are they asking questions?” For someone so experienced with avoiding the truth, Chuu hated lying. It took a toll on her whenever she lied to Gowon or Yves. She probably wasn’t even aware of how much it hurt her. She’d grown numb to it. 

“Wanted to,” she replied. “But there’s been more news.” Her mouth formed a line. “Bright spirits were turned dark, but none of those had attacked. Dark spirits were stopping their attacks, even around that house." Then she sighed. "She killed two elder vampires. Weren’t part of a coven, at least not anymore, but—” Her brow furrowed. “Doyeon was the one who sent her.”

Choerry felt a knot in her stomach. Hyejoo had been hired to kill again? And she’d gone through with it? Hadn’t she wanted to escape that? 

“How’s Go—Chaewon?” Hadn’t Hyejoo’s decisions been the reason why the bond had flared the way it had? “Did she notice it hurting?”

Chuu’s brow shot up. She hadn’t expected Choerry to ask—or care. “The ache got a bit more, but not much more.” 

“Of course,” Choerry sat down on the ground, “even the moon doesn’t care about vampires.”

“Or it was for a different reason.” Chuu sat down across from her. “They terrorised and killed a lot of humans.”

“That human she was sent to kill might’ve also deserved it,” she threw back. “So what’s the difference?”

“I don’t know.” She looked defeated at the thought. “Sorry.” 

Choerry felt guilty. Chuu had already done so much for her. She’d risked exposing a secret she’d kept for ages just so she could help Choerry learn how to understand the sight better. She’d taken on Choerry’s secret as well. 

Eline had helped Chuu adjust, but she was pretty sure that a lot of what Chuu had taught Choerry had been learned through experience. The elder seer had offered to help Choerry as well, but she hadn’t thought that would’ve been the right way to go about this. Plus, if anyone would see her going to an elder, it would’ve raised questions. 

“You don’t have to know everything,” Choerry said. “We’re not like fairies. It’s okay if we leave some questions unanswered.”

Chuu just shrugged. 

Choerry wanted to ask more about what’d happened to make her so sombre, but Chuu could be more closed off than Jungeun. Sometimes even more than Choerry. 

But that was exactly why she needed to press her. Jinsoul had once learned how to read Jungeun and vice versa, as Jinsoul had been difficult to approach when she'd first come to the Astra. Years later, Jungeun and Jinsoul had learned to press Choerry when they needed too. That was usually to get her to admit when she was hurt or being troubled by something else. If Yves and Gowon would do the same with Chuu, maybe they’d figure it out. She wasn’t sure. Chuu was a different sort of closed off. Hers was a secret she’d kept almost her entire life. 

She looked up, ready to ask. 

“I saw her,” Chuu muttered. 

Choerry didn’t have to ask who, but her heart sank. “When?” She hadn’t sensed anything. That might’ve been because she could barely stand the sight of light. 

“Patrol.” She closed her eyes. “I was in town, had just finished things up with a wolf. They’d needed chains. Then I’d gone for a drink and she’d come in.” Her voice had started to shake. “And ran the moment she saw me.”

Choerry wanted to ask more, but she knew Chuu wouldn’t want to relive that moment yet. She both understood why Chuu hadn’t been there for Hyejoo on that day and she didn’t. What she did know very well was how much Chuu regretted it. She knew how much it hurt her and she understood that seeing Hyejoo this time had just cut open that old wound. 

So she took her hand instead. Chuu jumped, but didn’t pull away. She hadn’t expected that. That meant her thoughts were just on Hyejoo and not the future. 

“If she leaves, it’ll be my fault,” she muttered. And I know how much you want her back in your life.” She opened her eyes. There were no tears, just frustration and pain. “I’m sorry, Yerim. I should’ve known she’d be close enough for that. And I,” her breath hitched, “I tried to follow her, but I shouldn’t have.”

Choerry knew that had been a mistake, but she couldn’t blame her. “It’s okay.” She squeezed her hand. “She’ll be staying in Korea for now. Maybe she’ll try and learn another language, but you know that’ll take her a few years.” Korean had taken a while. For Choerry too. Yves and Jungeun had taught most of them. 

“It’s no small landmass.”

“It gets smaller if Hyejoo stays on this path,” she replied. “We just seek out the witches in each city, village, and hut. Jungeun’s great at getting those answers. We could find her again.” But even then, Choerry wasn’t sure if they should. 

Unless she was in danger. Then they needed to find her.

The mention of Jungeun seemed to bring a little clarity back. For a moment, Choerry wondered if Chuu actually felt something else for her. Maybe, but Choerry also knew that the feelings Chuu had for Yves had definitely _not_ faded. As far as she knew, Jungeun was being Jungeun and Chuu was trying to look somewhere other than Yves. It probably wasn’t helping things, but both thought it was. 

“Can you see her path?” Chuu asked. “For me it’s dark, but not like a terrible fate.” She sighed. “It’s the same with Hyunjin. It’s just uncertain.” 

“I can’t see either,” she admitted. “If I try to look, it hurts.” She’d had her sight directly after the attack, but then it’d slowly gotten lost. She didn’t know what to make of that. She loved having her head clear of paths and the rest of the future. That was a clarity she’d missed. 

At the same time, it meant she had no idea what was coming. She didn’t know if Yeojin would be going off on her own again. She didn’t know if Jungeun was about to make another dangerous decision. She didn’t even know if the moon wanted her to walk left or right. 

And now, she didn’t know if she was following the path set out for her, or if she was going against it like she usually tried to do. 

Chuu had been silent, but now she put a hand over Choerry’s. “It was just a head wound,” she said. “Something you’re still healing from.” The message was clear. _You haven’t lost your sight._

“But if you could choose,” Choerry began, “wouldn’t you want it gone?”

“A lot of the time I do,” she replied. Then a small, but honest, smile appeared. “But what if you hadn’t seen the light leave Hyunjin in that forest? What if the seers hadn’t sense that there’d be Astra outside of this clan, but in a very different one?” She shrugged. “It brings a lot of good. And for me, my sight is like your magic over nature.”

Briefly, the thought of losing said magic crossed her mind. The mere mention was painful. “You’d feel lost.”

Chuu just nodded. The smile on her face looked sad. 

And Choerry knew why. The sight was a part of Chuu just as much as the earth felt like a part of Choerry. Trees could bend towards her when she was alone and desperately longing for company. Fruits could start to grow, or even ripen, when Choerry was hungry. And for Chuu, the paths she saw were as normal as dirt roads and stone paths were to mortals. She either followed them or ignored them. And when it came to others, she was always looking out for where their path led. Chuu tried her best to step in when she could, but a lot of the time, she was able to step away. Those decisions were completely natural to her, despite not many being able to share that insight. 

So as much as Chuu hated her magic, she’d had it all her life. She’d learned to live with it. She’d learned to use it for the good of all their futures. So even if she had the choice, she wouldn’t give it up. 

______

Gowon watched as Sooyoung sank to the ground. She looked lost. 

“Did you make this?” She peered at the pot of noodles. 

“If I said yes,” Gowon raised a brow at her, “would you still eat it?”

Sooyoung winked. “Might have to drink a tonic beforehand.”

She tossed a twig at her. “Unless it’s burnt, everything I make is delicious.”

“But only if it's not charred.” Even so, she took a decent sized serving. She ate a forkful, wincing at the heat. Then her brow rose. “It’s good.” She sounded too surprised. 

“Of course it is,” Gowon huffed, “I made it, so it’s delicious.” The pain in her chest was still there, but it'd subsided since Dahyun had brought those memories to the surface. Even if the memories themselves carried a different pain with them. 

“So you’ll be making dinner for the rest of the year?”

“I’ll burn it all.”

She raised a brow. “A year is nothing.”

“But it’s still long!” Gowon whined. 

Sooyoung laughed. “Okay fine, you’ll just have this month.”

She grumbled at that. In reality, she was just glad she’d gotten that look out of Sooyoung’s eyes. 

It would come back. She knew that. And if Jiwoo came over in a good moon, that lost look would be gone again. Sooyoung had always been a bit like a mirror to Jiwoo’s positivity. 

That worked the other way too. If Jiwoo was genuinely forcing a smile, then Sooyoung would move closer to her, almost as if she was trying to draw that negative energy out. 

And now, Sooyoung was starting to relax from whatever had happened tonight. She was gently teasing Gowon, either about her height or cooking prowess. Gowon retaliated with jibes about her recent dancing escapades during a patrol, or her age. 

Then Jiwoo came, looking exhausted. 

Gowon saw Sooyoung straighten, as if ready to go to her side or prepare a plate for her. 

Wordlessly, Jiwoo filled her own bowl and sat down on Gowon’s side, opposite Sooyoung. 

“Yerim’ll be able to come outside tomorrow,” she said. A weak smile appeared. It met her eyes this time. “It’s finally stopping to burn.” She glanced to the sky. 

They still hadn’t talked about how Jiwoo had known something had been wrong in the first place. It didn’t feel like the right time, so Gowon didn’t bring it up. 

Something tugged at her chest then. She ignored it. Even though the ache had gotten less, something about it had ben changing recently. Especially a few days ago, when there'd been an actual burst of pain. 

Jiwoo ate slowly, giving them the news from a recent patrol she’d had. It'd involved some vampires, a werewolf, and a witch who’d tapped into necromancy. 

All Gowon knew about that kind of magic was that the light around the users and targets was a sickly looking purple and red. It always made her want to vomit. 

Was that the reason for the bright spirits attacking? Their light also made her feel sick. If a spirit had once been the soul of a person, maybe necromancy was what corrupted them. 

Gowon had no idea. There weren’t enough necromancers for that. At least not in their area. They also didn’t need to deal with them much. 

“What was this one doing?” Sooyoung asked. 

Jiwoo grimaced. “One set was sent to raid a supply trail. Intercepted that. The other went around dismantling whatever houses they could and overrunning them. We got another fae involved with that one.” 

“Did you,” Gowon stopped herself. She didn’t want to finish that sentence. 

She shook her head. “He was desperate for food and wanted to make enough noise so that a coven would notice.” She sighed. “Doyeon took in him, talking about some coven that’ll excuse what he did.”

That wasn’t surprising. Doyeon was forgiving of a lot of things. She excused newborns who’d been thirst-crazed, even helping them find proper guidance and covens who’d welcome them no matter how often they’d lost control. And she almost never let a witch be killed for what they’d done. Even if they’d completely violated the natural order, Doyeon insisted they could be convinced to follow different schools of magic. 

“How old?” Sooyoung asked. 

“Very young,” Jiwoo replied, looking at her food. “Only twenty years.”

It was always weird to consider a mortal’s age. This witch had been born when Gowon and all the rest had looked exactly as they did now. He’d been an infant, a child, and was now only a young man. To him, his life had been long and he would still be living for an eternity—a brief life, but one filled with possibility and room for growth. 

Of course Doyeon would pardon someone like that and Jiwoo would go along with it. 

“And,” Jiwoo glanced at Sooyoung then, a silent question there, “there was something else. After I’d gotten finished with the witch.” 

Gowon caught Sooyoung nod. Whatever the news, they were going to deliver it gently. She didn’t need them to. 

“You saw her,” Gowon said. 

Jiwoo started, before resignation came over. She only nodded. 

The thought of Hyejoo strengthened the ache in her chest. She thought of black eyes filled with warmth. Whether they’d been like coal or obsidian, Gowon had always found her eyes beautiful. And they’d been expressive when her voice and face hadn’t been. She’d always been able to read her. Better than anyone else she knew. 

“How was she?” Gowon asked. “Healthy?”

“Tired,” Jiwoo murmured. “But she seemed alright.” Her shoulders dropped. “And she runs fast.”

A simple statement, but pain ran through those words. 

“But she didn’t lash out,” Jiwoo continued. “That’ll be evidence enough.” A dry laugh. “If she can see me and not use her magic against me, then the rest’ll know full well that she’s not a danger.”

Gowon wondered what Hyejoo would do if she saw her. She almost wished she’d lash out. Anything to get rid of whatever anger she’d have had building for the past years. At the very least, she’d be able to get her revenge. 

“You think she’ll stay?” Gowon asked. The pain of the bond hadn’t faded to a dull ache yet. That meant she was still close. At least compared to before. 

Gowon wasn’t sure to make of that knowledge anymore. Seeing Hyejoo had been both a hope and a fear of hers. And whenever she had hoped, she’d grown afraid of it. 

She wasn’t afraid of what Hyejoo would do. She’d let her do what she wanted. She deserved anything Hyejoo would throw at her. 

No, she was afraid of what it would mean. She dreaded the moment she’d watch rage and hatred flood those dark eyes. She was afraid of seeing the person she loved most hate her. She knew Hyejoo hated her, but seeing it would be something very different. A part of her knew she wasn’t strong enough to bear that. It would be the moment she finally broke. 

“I think she will,” Sooyoung said. “She’ll do what she can to avoid seeing us, but she’ll at least stay in Korea.”

Jiwoo was nodding along as she spoke. There was a soft smile on her face. 

Then she blinked and the warmth there was gone. She stood up. 

“Going already?” Sooyoung asked. The lost look was coming back. “They’ll have music soon. I thought you’d like that.” 

Jiwoo smiled, but shook her head. “I’m tired tonight.” Then she was gone. No mention of anything else, even though there was clearly a lot of pain in her heart. 

It’d taken them a while to even see Jiwoo’s more vulnerable side. They’d had to properly coax it out of her, sometimes with tight embraces, other times with long discussions further away from camp. 

And Jiwoo was still distant. She wasn’t always, not like before, but there was still a rift. 

Sooyoung was still looking in the direction she’d gone. There were tears in her eyes. 

Gowon was beside her in an instant. Even when things had gotten hard, Sooyoung had forced herself not to shed tears. And now she did. 

Now, she leaned into Gowon’s side. “What am I doing wrong?”

“What do you mean?” Sooyoung had gotten them through a lot in the past years. She’d always been there before as well. For all four of them. “You’re doing everything right.”

“She won’t even look at me,” Sooyoung muttered. “Is it because of what happened? Does she blame me for—”

“No,” Gowon cut her off. “She was the one who said it was all of us and she’s right.”

“Then what did I do?” 

She didn’t know what she could say to ease this sudden flow of doubt. 

“How do you know it’s what _you_ did?”

“She lets you in, same with Jungeun and Choerry,” Sooyoung blinked twice, “and Dahyun can get her talking more than I can.” She sighed. “How can it not be me?”

“You didn’t do anything,” Gowon told her. “Jiwoo’s respect for you hasn’t changed.” She didn’t want to continue that sentence. Even if she could have, their relationship, or lack thereof, wasn’t her place. 

“Sure,” Sooyoung drawled, “she tries to avoid me any time we could be alone. If she’s clearly struggling, she won’t even talk to me.” Her expression crumpled. “She’s been like that a few times. Do you think that—” Her mouth shut. 

“What?” Gowon asked. The moment she heard the doubts, she could dispel them. She saw more than both combined. The two danced around each other, with Sooyoung being hesitant and Jiwoo being…well, that was something else entirely. 

“Am I losing her?” She looked up and what Gowon saw in her was heartbreaking. “She stays with us because she loves you. She also doesn’t think she fits in with the rest—she doesn’t even like most of them, except for Yerim and, well, Jungeun.” Her gaze fell. “Whatever it is she wants, or what she _needs_ ,” she broke off. Then she sank further into Gowon’s side. “It isn’t me.”

“Sooyoung,” Gowon said. “Look at me.”

It took a few seconds, but she did. How many times had Gowon worn an expression like that? How many times had Sooyoung comforted her, trying to restore her hope and usually succeeding in small ways? 

The difference now was that the person Sooyoung loved was still in this camp. And yet Sooyoung still thought she was losing her. Gowon had lost the person she loved. The space they’d held in her heart was now a place in constant pain. 

That just meant she could talk some sense into Sooyoung. 

She didn’t know if the two were bonded, but they kept coming back to each other as if they were. No one Sooyoung had fallen for had been able to compare. Sooyoung had confessed that before, but not to the right person. 

“She’s been by your side for years and she’s not going to leave it any time soon,” Gowon said, trying to keep her voice firm. “You’ve been in worse places than this. Once she thought you were an ass with no self worth when you were clinging to that other ass of a vampire for years.”

Sooyoung looked momentarily stunned, her mouth opening and closing several times. “Sunmi wasn’t an ass.” 

“Maybe not, but you idolised her and neither of you were great back then.” Gowon had actually liked that vampire. She hadn’t liked the person Sooyoung had become around said vampire. “But even then, Jiwoo didn’t cut you off when she could’ve.” In the beginning, it’d just been jealousy, which Jiwoo had learned to hide pretty well. After a while, it’d just turned into frustration, because Sooyoung hadn’t seen how much value she’d placed into her lover and how little she’d kept for herself. 

“You never told me that.” Sooyoung’s voice was quiet. 

“Because you were heartbroken right after it ended and you needed us.” And Jiwoo had made Gowon promise not to make it worse by telling her everything Sooyoung had been doing wrong. “You’re not an ass now and you’re doing everything right. Jiwoo sees that and she’s not going to leave.”

“Did she tell you?” She still sounded small, but she didn’t look as defeated. 

“I know she won’t,” Gowon replied. Whatever it was that kept the two apart, she knew it was just Jiwoo. It’d been going on for a while, but she’d never made any move to turn away then. She wouldn’t now. _Especially_ not now. 

Sooyoung nodded. “Thank you,” she said softly. “I didn’t know you’d had any wisdom in that head of yours.”

Gowon pinched her side. “You were running out of it, so I had to step up.” 

She stuck out her tongue. “We both know Jiwoo’s the brains between us.”

“I’m second,” she grumbled. Even so, she smiled at the new lightness in Sooyoung’s eyes. She’d been able to bring that back. Her years of watching those two had paid off. 

Maybe she’d try talking to Jiwoo and help her tell them what problems she’d been having now. Maybe they could take down those barriers between them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit more of a yyxy focused chapter, specifically Jiwoo and Sooyoung. Theirs is quite the complicated dynamic for me. Miscommunication can be an infuriating thing and it sometimes is here. For me, if I do have it, I want there to be a good reason. In Jiwoo's mind, keeping the fact that she's a seer has to be a secret. With that, she also can't say that her and Sooyoung are bound. That leads to a lot of her holding back information. For you, can that be considered a good reason? 
> 
> We're also getting closer to properly putting together the two main stories. I know it's taking long to get there, but I hope you find it to be a worthwhile journey! When I first thought of this story, I knew it would be a longer one. There were characters whose stories I really wanted to take some time to explore, while the paths of others became more fleshed out the more I wrote. 
> 
> Would really love to know your thoughts. Either about Chuuves, something about the yyxy situation, or anything else! That this story is still being read and commented on is so wonderful for me. Thank you all for supporting this story!
> 
> See you in the next chapter. 


	28. She saw fire

Note: as with the monster chapter, there's violence. I'd say more than that chapter, so once again, if you're uncomfortable with that, then you can skim over that section. 

______

“I think I’ll be able to walk on my own,” Jungeun said. She hoped she didn’t sound frustrated. Jinsoul didn’t deserve that. 

The thought made her stomach twist. There were a lot of things Jinsoul deserved, most of which Jungeun either couldn’t give, or had failed to do. 

Jinsoul’s reply took her out of her thoughts. “If a spirit catches you out there alone, you won’t be able to fight it.” She gave her a pointed look before she slipped a label on one of the many bottles in front of her. She was reorganising the potions and elixirs. Jungeun had watched her work a few times before, but she was always impressed at everything Jinsoul was able to remember. 

“Then I’ll go during the day.” She’d be tired, but at least the chance of getting in the way of a spirit was small. 

Jinsoul still didn’t look happy. 

“I have to something, ‘Soul,” she told her. “If sitting around and sleeping is all I’m doing, I’m useless.”

Jinsoul’s brow twitched. “Don’t say that.”

Jungeun could tell they were heading to a different, and difficult, subject. “It’ll be fine.” She reached out and poked her arm. “You can even coat an axe in light for me if you need to be sure of that.”

Behind Jinsoul, two people came over. 

“We can go with her,” a deeper voice said. 

The frown on Jinsoul’s face softened. Then she turned her head. 

Shuhua and Yuqi were at her side then. They usually went along with either Yeojin, Yerim, or a few others. Yuqi was preparing for patrol, while Shuhua was torn between pure patrol or going to join Soyeon. She led another group elsewhere in the world. 

“Then she’ll have enough moonlight and no spirits’ll get close,” Yuqi explained, her silver eyes bright. 

Jungeun had to smile. These two were some of the first Astra to really get Yerim to open up. That’d involved sneaking out. It still did. The two girls and the others they were close with were often the subject of scolding and close watch. 

And now they’d been eavesdropping, this time interfering to help Jungeun’s case. 

Jinsoul pursed her lips. “If you go right now and you’re back before dinner.”

The two nodded. Yuqi sent a wink at Jungeun, while Shuhua had a smug smile. 

Jungeun replied with a small bow. “I’ll make sure they’re back,” she grinned at her, “don’t worry.”

After getting a list from Jinsoul, Nuala, and a few of the other healers, Jungeun left the tent. 

It’d been impossible to miss the furrow that hadn’t left a certain healer’s brow. 

Jungeun knew Jinsoul would worry. She always did. She’d always wished she could tell her there was no point to it. Jungeun had been through a lot worse in the past. 

But if it were flipped, if Jungeun had seen Jinsoul come home wounded several times, if she’d had to heal those wounds, then she’d be scared of watching her leave too. 

Only this was different. She’d be with other people. These were also people she couldn’t protect if they did come across spirits. If there was anything that went wrong here, Jungeun would get them out of harm’s way immediately. They wouldn’t be looking for a fight. 

_____

Olivia slumped into the chair. Rai sat down beside her. If she asked him to stay, the wolf would. Even if there were others around. 

And the witch had been eager to see a spirit that wouldn’t flee or attack her. 

“You found it in Europe?” Doyeon gazed at it, something close to wonder on her face. 

“Him,” she corrected. “Yes.”

“And it—he followed you.”

Olivia just nodded. Even days after, seeing Chuu had somehow exhausted her. She still wished she could’ve turned around and faced her. Another part had wanted to talk to her. When she’d gotten home, she’d wanted nothing more than to forget it had happened. 

So she’d taken any targets she could from Doyeon’s scrying. If she’d been wanting to hide, she wasn’t succeeding. 

“Your fates must be tied then,” Doyeon said. 

Olivia frowned. “And suddenly you’re a seer?”

She raised a brow. “I don’t have to be one to make a small logical leap.” She waved a hand towards Rai, who was watching her intently. Olivia was grateful not to have those green eyes directed at her. “The spirits don’t usually track people down, right? And they don’t exactly act like the animals they represent, so it wasn’t stalking after you.”

Olivia shrugged. 

Doyeon sniffed. “Why else would he travel across continents if not because he was tied to you?”

“I turned him.” 

“If that was how it worked, then you’d have a lot of animals around you.”

“Good that it’s just one then,” Olivia muttered. 

“Has this ever happened before?” Doyeon looked hesitant. How much she knew of what happened, Olivia didn’t know. At least the witch knew not to ask. 

“Only heard of it once,” she replied. “Jiwoo had—” she broke off. Then she forced herself to keep going. She was weak if she couldn’t even talk about them. “She had a spirit that’d come to her when she was young. Then it stopped at some point. Probably turned.”

Doyeon nodded. “I’m guessing I can’t ask her that the next time I see them?”

Olivia squinted at her. “What do you think?”

She shrugged. “Just a question. They haven’t asked much about you, but I did see some others.”

Her heart almost stopped. “Others?” She looked around the house. No darkness, except for her own. And just the light of Chuu and the others, even Jungeun, but she hadn’t been here in a few weeks. 

If she looked further, there’d been some humans, the newborn vampires, one older vampire, and a werewolf. And then two other presences, one vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t place the face. 

“Who?” Olivia stood. If they were close, maybe they were just waiting for her to leave. Or they’d found her new home and were waiting there. 

“An elf and a fairy,” Doyeon said, looking mostly confused. “None of them had any of those mental abilities, or they wouldn’t have asked me the things they did.”

“What did they ask?” Thanks to having more to do with people, Olivia’s voice had gradually become a bit less hoarse. 

“What you were doing here. What I was giving you for it,” Doyeon shrugged, “and if I’d seen any other elves.”

“Did you tell them?” Olivia thought of how Taegen. Had immediately tried to go after Jungeun and Yerim. 

And if these two were waiting to find Chuu and the other two—was she supposed to hope they would? A part of her thought she should. 

The other part felt disgusted at herself. She didn’t want them dead. She wanted a lot to happen, but not that. 

“I mean, yeah,” Doyeon said. “You always knew if the rest were here, so I couldn’t risk them knowing the rest. And lying like that doesn’t help with your people or the elves.” She frowned. “And I don’t even know where the lunar elves are. All of you only ever come here.” 

“Where’re they now?” Olivia asked. 

Doyeon looked confused. “Why do you care?” Then she frowned. “Are they dangerous?” Surprisingly, she started to look worried. 

“Think about what happened to the nobleman. And his guards.” 

Immediately, the witch stood. “Give me an hour. And space.”

Olivia was surprised that _she_ cared. Then again, mortals formed relationships a lot faster than they did. And those ties weren’t any less valuable than what immortals had. Sometimes, she thought they were even more so. Parents were much more conscious of the time spent with their children, and vice versa, as those children grew. Olivia still wished she'd been more conscious of the time she'd had with hers. She wished she'd treasured the years she'd lived with them—not after she'd lost them. 

She nodded and left. She kept her eye on the darkness of the day. Other than a few small surges—lies or petty thieving—there was nothing. This town had largely good people. Few who’d even be capable of killing. 

As she went to do her rounds for food, she thought about why she was worried. The Astra didn’t deserve her worry. They barely deserved Doyeon’s. 

Flashes of death filled her mind. A man whose heart was taken from him. Several men taken from their families. Faces followed. Yerim, Yeojin, Heejin, Haseul—and others. Even those three. She didn’t want to be the reason why green eyes filled with fear. 

Was it weakness that made her worry? The weakness that showed her she hadn’t been able to go? 

Olivia shook her head. She needed to get food for the next few days. Then she’d see what Doyeon had found. 

And after that, she’d decide what she needed to do next. 

______

“So what’re we looking for?” Shuhua asked. 

Jungeun chuckled. “You’ve never been sent gathering before?” 

“She managed to get out of it every time,” Yuqi told her. 

“With your help?” 

“Soojin’s,” she smirked, “before she left.” 

Jungeun could feel how the amusement warmed her heart. Dahyun had been right there. “Well, it’s really simple. We just have to get everything they asked us for. Yerim made different areas for all of it and I’ll tell you which ones we need.” 

The other two seemed excited, clearly not phased by the fact that they were just harvesting ingredients. 

Jungeun soon found out why. They eagerly asked her about her patrols and what she did. They even asked about her time before the Astra, what she did there. 

Jungeun was torn between telling them the full truth, because they’d heard the same stories as everyone else, and describing other aspects of her life. Contrary to belief, she hadn’t constantly been at war. 

So she told them about her smaller adventures to different parts of the world, sometimes being chased away by mortals who'd found her appearance strange, other times being allowed to stay with an entire coven of vampires. 

“Yeojin’s getting trained by Haseul,” Shuhua said after Jungeun described going to a group of elves in one of the world’s deserts. That'd been for her own training. “Yuol gives us monthly sessions, but that’s nothing.” 

“Have you asked Hyunjin?” For better or worse, she’d been training Heejin. It’d be better if she started training the others too. If they actually recognised she was good at what she did. 

“We want to,” Yuqi frowned for the first time, “but she looked like she was having a bad day.” A pause. “Every time we wanted to go to her.”

“I can ask her when she’s better,” Jungeun said. She let that sink in. “And when I’m healed, you’ll have a weekly one with me.” 

“Both of you?” Shuhua’s eyes widened. 

She stopped them at the second patch. Then she directed them to picking the herbs for bringing people into a gentle daze. 

“I didn’t stop with one teacher,” Jungeun said. “Hyunjin didn’t either.” 

“And how long did that take?” 

“Years,” she admitted. “Forever if you ask the wrong person.” 

As they finished that segment, Jungeun told them about one of her other teachers. A fairy with the same ability as her. He’d managed to change the colour of his flames at will. Not just related to the heat of the flame. 

And he’d also showed her how to add a degree of weight to the flames she made. The speed of the flames and how close she packed it’s components together achieved that. She didn’t know how, only the way to do it. 

“And he just showed you?” Shuhua frowned. “An elf.”

Jungeun nodded. “Not everyone makes that big a distinction. And there was a lot he didn’t show me. I would’ve had to be there for at least a decade.” 

“How long were you there?” 

“Five years.” And she’d come back with a better perspective. One that had both told her how much stronger fairies could be than them. But also how wise they could be. It made sense that any splinter groups were quickly dismissed by the rest. A lot of the fae just wanted to further their magic, not use it against people. 

That made the fairies great allies, but the worst type of enemy. She’d almost died several times at the hands of a fairy. 

“Was that Railanth?” a new voice asked. Worsa—elves from the mountains. The most revered magic from there was mastery over stone and earth. 

Jungeun whipped around to where the voice came from. The movement didn’t hurt. She might’ve not had the light, but she wasn’t that weak. 

“Who’s asking?” She couldn’t see them. Illusion magic. As useful as it was, she hated that magic. 

Both Yuqi and Shuhua had summoned moonlight. Yuqi sported a spear. Shuhua had a wickedly curved sword. 

Jungeun had only a steel axe. It would do a lot of damage. If she could see them. 

“Put those away,” another voice said. The accent gave him away. A fairy. The tone seemed to circle the words he said, rather than following a proper line of speech. Jungeun recognised the voice too. She wasn’t sure if she liked the memories attached to it. 

“We’re not here to fight," the Worsan said. "I can promise you that.”

Jungeun hated the phrasing. It meant they could still hurt them. 

“Drop the illusions first.” Jungeun resisted the urge to send out a wide flame. It would do what she wanted to do without all the taking. 

Suddenly, the two people were there. A bright light above them appeared then. They didn't have a torch. Jungeun would've sensed that.

The light, as well as that of Yuqi and Shuhua, revealed their features.

The first was a tall woman with a warm smile and pale blue eyes. Her hair was white as snow. 

The other was a man with ears slightly longer than hers. The fairy. He had dark green eyes and brown hair. Jungeun remembered choking on dirt. She remembered clawing at the earth, the desperation having sent her into a panic. 

“What’re you doing here?” Jungeun scowled. That'd been years ago. She was older now. Stronger too. 

He raised his hands up. “We parted on good terms. You better than I, I’m sure.” 

It wasn’t true. The battle had been broken when Jungeun’s side had called for a retreat. Too many had been badly wounded. 

Jungeun had been dragged under the earth. She’d burned it and gotten out. Then he’d been gone. 

After that, they’d managed to get a truce. 

But now he was here. With an elf. 

“Go back,” Jungeun muttered. 

Yuqi shook her head. Shuhua looked just as defiant. 

“No need for that,” the elf said. “We just came here to speak to you.” She smiled at the other two. “And we could add you there too.” 

“For what?” Yuqi frowned. “How’d you find us?” 

“We dropped the illusions, lose the weapons.” The fairy fixed his eyes on them. 

Jungeun wanted to fight him then and there. She remembered the look in his eyes when he’d wrapped her in dirt and started crushing her. She didn’t want him anywhere near the camp. Especially not Yerim. He was exactly the person she didn’t want to become. 

But they had revealed themselves, even though they'd had the advantage. Jungeun had almost always been able to detect those illusions. This time she hadn't. That fact alone made Jungeun’s stomach twist. What if they’d attacked then? What if Yuqi or Shuhua had gotten hurt?

They hadn’t. So that meant they weren’t lying. Not right now at least. 

Jungeun slid the axe into the loop at her waist. On the other side was her sword. While she hadn’t expected anyone to be there, she hadn’t gone out defenceless. 

It also wasn’t a new thing for people to come after her. Either as assassins shrouded in illusion, or ambushes. Many wanted to remove her as a threat entirely. Others wanted to take their revenge for what she’d done. And the list of people whose lives she'd stolen was long. 

So what did these two want? 

Shuhua and Yuqi had both absorbed their weapons. They’d summoned them quickly in the first place. That was good. 

Jungeun just hoped they’d run if things got messy. They'd come with her to fend off spirits. They weren't ready for elves, let alone fairies. 

“Good,” the elf smiled, “my name’s Hanna.” 

“I’m Maven.” The fairy looked to Jungeun. “No need to say your name, your reputation’s a bit more widespread than mine.”

Jungeun looked to Yuqi, hoping that neither she, nor Shuhua wouldn’t give their names. Certain witches could achieve a few things with names. Like tracking. Was that how they’d found her? 

“Why're you here?” Yuqi looked very different to the cheerful girl she usually was. 

“We’re making you an offer,” Maven said. “Like the one we got.” He looked between them. “Freedom.”

Jungeun snorted. “You can take that offer back.” 

“Do you think you’re free?” Hanna spoke as if she sympathised with her. As if she was the one who knew the right answer and was convinced Jungeun was wrong. 

It reminded her of how the Astra had been in the beginning. How some of the elders had been in Jungeun’s old clan. 

It made her angry. 

"Freedom's difficult to offer," Jungeun replied. "I live with people who can tell me my future and my past, so don't pretend either of you can escape those things, because you can’t.” And even if your decisions could change your path, they never changed what had already happened. 

“So you believe what the seers tell you?” Maven scoffed. “Even if they expelled people who they said were family?” 

That told her exactly who these two followed. Why had they come here before Hyejoo? 

Or, Jungeun’s stomach twisted at the thought, had they already found her? 

“Those were the judgements made about the future," Jungeun said. "They were wrong.” 

Neither of them responded. Maven looked vaguely insulted. Hanna just contemplative. 

“So you’re here for what,” Jungeun started, “recruit me? Recruit these two?” 

“You,” Hanna nodded, “and these two if they’d like to.” 

Shuhua scoffed. “And leave my family?” 

Jungeun brushed her fingers on her arm. If these two were going to get away unharmed, they couldn’t antagonise themselves. 

“She’s right, you can take that offer right back.” Yuqi sneered. 

Maven scowled. “You won’t even question it.” He glanced at Hanna. “He was right.” 

“Alluin?” Jungeun raised her brow. “The one who makes you steal from the defenceless? Kill them too if the money is right?” 

“They’re all guilty,” Maven snarled. “They steal from each other. They plot against each other, sending others to their deaths.”

So she’d hit a nerve. Jungeun knew that feeling well. It meant a part of him doubted what they did. And the potential to be ashamed made him defensive. 

And if he was defensive, he’d get violent. 

She still had two people with her. People who weren’t supposed to get hurt. 

“Go back,” Jungeun said to them. 

“Not happening,” Yuqi retorted. 

“Yes,” she snapped. “You’re not siding with them.” 

Their eyes widened. “Are you?” 

That hadn’t been what she’d wanted out of this. But what if it got her what she wanted? 

“Just go,” Jungeun said. If they thought she was turning on them, they'd turn their backs on her faster. They'd _leave_ faster. 

She watched the light dim ever so slightly in their eyes. 

She made a promise to herself that she’d convince them she was lying. 

“Leave.” She let her anger show. She knew that look surprised people. 

And it did now. Shuhua and Yuqi looked at her, betrayed. 

Jungeun nearly looked away. She hadn’t given them a reason to doubt her. Or had it always been there? In the beginning, many had doubted her loyalty to the Astra. She wasn't sure what they said now. She'd stopped listening. 

“Go home.” 

“I can’t believe this,” Yuqi whispered. 

“Believe it,” Shuhua hissed. She gave Jungeun a withering look. 

She didn't let herself flinch, even if seeing that hurt. There were some times when she couldn't lie. That was with the people who knew her best. 

Here, she could lie and put on the right mask. Even then, it hurt to watch them go. 

“They didn’t try to convince you,” Hanna said softly. “He said they wouldn’t.” 

And there it was. She was seeing the hope for them. That they’d turn her against the Astra. 

Jinsoul would never go. And if they were on opposite sides, Jungeun would rather fight her own allies than hurt her. 

But she’d never be on the other side in the first place. To oppose Yerim, Haseul, Hyunjin, Jiwoo, or even Yves—she wouldn’t do it. 

Hanna was watching her. She thought she was considering it. 

Alluin seemed to think that just because they shared a few aspects of their past, that Jungeun would turn on the Astra as well. 

“My magic isn’t exactly fit for assassinations.” It was Jungeun who’d had assassins sent after her. They’d never worked, even if they’d come close. 

She listened for the two’s footsteps. They were quick. Someone was muttering their disbelief. Another was sniffling. 

“He won’t ask you to murder anyone,” Hanna replied. 

“Then what‘ll I have to do?” Jungeun narrowed her eyes. “Olivia didn’t want to kill him. And he sent her to do it.” She didn’t use Hyejoo’s real name. Did they know what it was? 

“Taegen had to clean up her mess,” Maven said. The ground trembled. “He was going to bring her back. She wouldn’t have had any more jobs like that. And then she killed him.“

The anger there. It also showed in Hanna’s face. 

If Jungeun could do one thing, she could tell them turn some of their attention away from Hyejoo. Would they believe it? If it was as quickly as the other two, then they would. 

“No she didn’t.” Jungeun thought of how he would’ve come for them. How Yerim had sensed his desire to kill them. She thought of what he’d done to those mortals. How he’d killed the ones who’d just defended the target. “I did.” She couldn’t hear Shuhua or Yuqi anymore. 

Both were silent. Both looked surprised. Had they known him for a long time? Had they known how cruel he could be? 

“He wanted me and another dead,” she said. “He attacked. I killed him.” She left out what happened in between. She let her face stay calm, dismissive even. If it enraged them, then she'd have succeeded. 

“You’re lying,” Hanna said slowly. “There were no flames on his body.”

So it’d gone to them. Not the fae. 

“I didn’t need them.” Jungeun placed a hand on the hilt of her sword. “And I used what I could.” 

“He had her darkness too.” Maven narrowed his eyes. 

“She couldn’t go through with it,” Jungeun met his eyes, “I could.” She put on a smile.

The ground below her softened. Jungeun stamped out the panic she felt. Fire bloomed from her hands. 

“Wait,” Hanna held her hand up, “he told us your kind would never be treated as equals.” Her gaze softened. “Just like he was less than them, because he was meant for something else.” 

So Alluin really did want to recruit her? Turn her against all the people she’d know for years? 

But did he really think words would convince her? Did these two actually think it would work? 

Or was it just a way to try? And if she said no, they would kill her. 

“Why me?” She reached for the flames, let them warm her skin. The heat came easily. She realised then she wanted a fight. 

“You’re their best,” Hanna said slowly. 

There it was. She was the threat they needed gone. Either with them, or dead. 

And if that’s what they thought, then all the Astra would need to win was the help of their allies. If Alluin thought they’d be able to attack if Jungeun wasn’t there, then they were being underestimated. Once their wounded healed, the Astra would be able to hold their own. 

Jungeun opened her mouth just as she pulled out the axe. Flames shot from her lips and towards Maven. She made them form a whip.

The ground gave out from under her. She heard a roar in the next moment. She’d gotten him. 

She scrambled to reach the earth that was intact. She pulled on the fire she’d wrapped around Maven. 

She saw him try to rip it off, before tearing his hands away. 

She sent out an arc of blue fire. 

Hanna dodged it, but Maven was too late. The fire struck caught his chest and neck. The sound that left him made Jungeun want to call the fire back. 

The light that hovered in the air disappeared. 

She scrambled to her feet, looking to where Hanna had gone. She saw her several metres away, her white hair and bright eyes giving her away, even in the faint moonlight. 

Jungeun let the axe sink and threw the flames in a large wall. The fire illuminated the forest around them, casting long shadows. 

Then Hanna lifted her hands. Frost entered the air. It made for a white canopy. 

The fire engulfed the surrounding trees, but Hanna emerged from frost, unharmed. 

She controlled ice. 

Jungeun had fought against it enough to know how dangerous that was. She didn't have moonlight and there was a chance she'd lose the fire in this fight. It was good she'd trained enough to not need her magic. 

So she ran towards her. Range didn’t matter here. For neither of them. And now they both had enough light to see, cast by the fires Jungeun had caused. 

She threw fire in a direct spurt. She watched her dodge. Then she threw the axe. 

The shriek told her she’d hit her target. 

And then something drove itself into her chest. Suddenly, Jungeun's body was filled with ice. 

Jungeun stumbled. She scrambled to get a grip on the now frozen ground. She tried to take out what had hit her. She found nothing. It'd melted. 

But the wounds were still there. Jungeun couldn’t breathe without agony bursting through her chest. 

She forced herself to look up. 

Hanna was on the ground, the axe protruding from her shoulder. She pulled it out, face contorted in pain. 

Jungeun forced fire to leave her hands. She missed. 

Hanna’s eyes locked on her. The firelight made her look gaunt. 

Something formed within Jungeun's lungs. Frost. It grew. 

Jungeun’s gasp turned into a scream. She forced fire to enter her lungs. She only managed small flames. Something was stopping her. 

Then something began to curl around her. It made a light crumbling sound. Earth. 

Jungeun tried to move, but her arms were being held down. And the pain that hadn’t let up wasn’t letting her force her way out. 

She heard someone dragging themselves over. 

“Told you,” Maven coughed, “we should’ve killed her then and there.” His voice was joined by the roar of the flames. 

The earth had reached her chest. Would it go into her lungs as well? Her body could take a lot, but everyone could die. Even immortals. 

It took several moments. Then the response came. “He told us to try.”

The cold in Jungeun’s lungs grew. If she breathed in, it stung. 

Maven appeared in her line of sight, one blurred by tears. She still saw that his skin had been marred by fire. He looked to be in as much pain as she was. 

“How much like fire are you?” he leered. “Do you snuff out once there’s no air?” 

She tried to summon flames. It yanked at her lungs, but she managed a spurt of it. It was pathetic, but Maven flinched away. At least she’d made him afraid. 

Then he drew out a black dagger. It didn’t glitter. It looked as though it had been carved out of the night sky. 

Then he sank it into her chest. Just like how she’d killed Taegan. This was his revenge. 

Both cold and heat filled her. She’d never been burned, but this came close.

She opened her mouth, but no sound came out, only sputtering. Red frost passed her lips. 

“Good fight,” he rasped. “But you shouldn’t have left me there.”

Jungeun could feel the darkness sink into her. It reached into her mind. 

And she saw the faces of those she’d killed. The ones she burned alive. The ones who’d killed her mother. 

The rage of that day filled her. It was joined with her grief, as fresh as the moment she’d heard the news—when she’d seen her mother’s body. 

She remembered how good it had felt to see them suffer as much as she had. She remembered how horrified she’d been when she’d seen the aftermath.

Maven twisted the knife. Blood was filling her lungs, but she realised then that he'd missed her heart. 

The way his eyes were fixed on Jungeun’s, she saw how much he enjoyed this. Had Taegen meant so much to him? 

Jungeun’s ears filled with the frantic pounding of her heart. She could only feel the heat of a fury that wasn’t hers. She felt Alluin’s pain—was this from the moment he’d been turned away? 

Then a white blade buried itself in Maven’s shoulder. 

He let go of the darkness in Jungeun’s chest. He ripped the blade of moonlight out of his arm. 

It wasn’t Jungeun’s. 

She looked to where it had come from. 

Shuhua’s face was something she hardly recognised. Fully determined, eyes burning with anger. She held her sword. Then she charged. 

The ground gave out from under her, swallowing first her legs. She collapsed, the ground trying to pull her down further. 

If Maven was still strong enough to fight, then he’d do everything he could to kill Shuhua. Be it through the darkness or the stories, he shared Alluin’s hatred for the Astra. 

Jungeun felt a startling clarity then. She found the fire she’d missed. 

And it erupted from her skin and into the air and soil. Unrestrained, her magic felt so _good_. 

She pushed herself from the earth, her skin aflame. She directed the fire straight at Maven. 

She turned away, only to hear him scream. She reached for her chest to pull the blade of darkness out of it. 

But it'd vanished. She'd taken all of it in. 

It hadn’t yet weakened her. It had only given her anger. And that strengthened her. 

She found Hanna. Her eyes were on Shuhua. 

Jungeun grabbed the inferno that'd overcome the trees. 

The flames shot towards Hanna. A spurt struck her back. She flew across the ground. 

Jungeun followed, not letting herself breathe. Hanna relied on range for her magic. She’d be a safe distance away while the rest choked on the ice, or the remnants of ruined lungs. 

“Don’t!” she heard Shuhua yell. Her voice was strangled. She’d been hurt. 

Jungeun didn’t know why she was here. She didn’t question it. 

Hanna was surrounded by a white whirlwind. She’d extinguished the flames, but they’d taken her by surprise. Her hair was partially singed, the white strands covered in soot. Her clothes were intact. Enchanted to resist flames. 

They’d expected this fight. 

Jungeun drew out her knife and threw it. It was surrounded by fire.

Hanna had dodged, but still cried out. Droplets of molten metal struck her. She clawed at her skin, trying to rid herself of it. 

Jungeun lunged, her hands aflame. She closed them around Hanna's neck. 

The ice in her hardened. The whirlwind around Hanna scraped at Jungeun’s skin. Something stabbed into her side. Another piece of ice sank into her leg. 

But Jungeun’s hands still burned. 

Then she was thrown off. Her back met frozen ground. The impact seized a series of coughs from her. Those hurt more than anything else. 

“Go back as she told you,” Hanna growled. “Or they’ll be mourning two of you.” 

Still mercy, even if Shuhua had come back to fight. 

Shuhua didn’t respond, but the crackling ice told her she was moving.

“Get back!” Jungeun tried to stand, but her hands slipped. She retched, something rising up her throat. 

She could only watch as ice rose to envelope Shuhua. Jungeun screamed. She felt something tear in her chest. Something else snapped in her mind. 

The fire was deafening. It still coated the trees. She felt each pulse as though they were a heartbeat.

Then fire exploded from her skin. 

Jungeun realised too late that it was going towards Shuhua, just as much as it was to Hanna. 

Two screams filled the air. 

She pulled the fire back. 

She looked to where Shuhua was. The ice had largely melted. She was clutching the side of her face. She was crying. 

All of Jungeun's anger disappeared. She’d hurt someone again. 

More whimpering filled her ears. 

When Jungeun looked, she saw Hanna on the ground. The frost had risen all over her skin. Beneath it was red. Even some black. 

She was still alive. 

Every breath felt short, but Jungeun felt numb. At some point, the pain usually stopped, either through the thrill of battle, or something else. What followed after, Jungeun didn’t want to think about. 

She forced herself to near Hanna. She saw Maven to the side. His body was a sight all too familiar. No sound came from him, not even a heartbeat. Dead.

“Yuqi went to camp,” Shuhua said, voice strained with pain. “She’ll bring help.” The sound of fire had lessened to a crackle. 

After a few seconds, Jungeun realised that Shuhua had come back. She’d realised Jungeun had lied. She'd known that Jungeun wouldn't turn away. 

That brought a strange strength to her. Was it happiness? Dahyun had said that was stronger than she gave it credit for. 

She reached Hanna, who was looking at her, terrified. The burns had made her look grotesque, but Jungeun doubted she looked any better. 

As to how her eyes were still open, how she was still breathing, Jungeun didn’t know. Probably the same way Jungeun was still able to move. Through a desperate attempt to live, her immortality keeping her from suffering the same wounds a mortal would. Even witches wouldn’t have survived a fight like this, their bodies would have begun to give up the moment something pierced their lungs. 

It was probably for the best. Jungeun almost wished she wasn’t in so much pain. She wished she wasn’t still awake. 

When Hanna spoke, her throat seemed to have been made raw from the heat of the air. Or her own voice. “Is this the light that heals you?” 

She didn’t respond. She wasn’t sure if she could. Around them, the earth was either white or black, frozen or burnt. The trees were still in flames. 

Hanna watched her. She looked both scared and shocked. 

“Why couldn’t you say yes?” Hanna asked weakly. 

When Jungeun tried to respond, she ended up coughing. Red flakes and droplets scatted across white. The burnt ground below her been covered in white. A brutal painting. 

Then she managed to get out the words. “You wanted,” Jungeun gasped out. “To hurt them.” She hacked something else up. She didn’t look. “My people.”

“They’re not your people.” Tears were mixing into the blood on Hanna’s face. 

“Doesn’t,” Jungeun got out, “matter.”

Then Hanna shot up, her expression a mixture of pain and desperation. Her hands wrapped around Jungeun’s neck. Only frost went across Jungeun's skin. When she whimpered, Jungeun knew that her own skin was as hot as Hanna’s was freezing. The frost melted as quickly as it came. 

It wasn’t to strangle her, but to press on the already ruined flesh. The frost in her chest sharpened as well. 

She tried to move the hands off of her. Her arms felt like they'd been wrapped in iron.

Jungeun clawed at Hanna’s hands, at her arms. She couldn’t get a proper grip. 

When she looked into Hanna’s eyes, she saw that the elf was feeling a similar pain to her. Every move would hurt. Every touch of Jungeun’s would make it worse. 

The only thing they could focus on was killing the other. 

Jungeun couldn’t summon the fire. It had left her. Even the fire all around her. It wouldn't come. 

She batted at the elf again. Her hand struck the wound in her shoulder. Then she dug her fingers into it. 

Hanna shrieked. Her grip loosened. The frost subsided. 

Jungeun pushed her off. She watched as Hanna fell to the side. Her head hit the frozen ground. Hard. 

The elf’s entire body went limp. The hold of the frost disappeared entirely. 

Jungeun joined her. Her head hit the ground. She registered that pain. 

Then the rest came. She could hardly cry out. The sound that left her didn't even sound human.

Jungeun heard someone call her, but didn’t move. 

Shuhua was alive. Yuqi had gone back to camp.

 _Leave me,_ she wanted to say. Instead, she forced different words out of her mouth. “Don’t,” she swallowed a clump of something, “kill her.” 

She didn’t hear Shuhua’s response, only the crackling of the flames. It was familiar. Soothing. 

The only danger now was a spirit catching wind of the fear and anger. Of the death. 

Shuhua hadn’t used that much light, as far as Jungeun knew. She could fight her way back to the camp. The others would come. 

Jungeun still had no light. She’d be useless if it came to a spirit. 

At least this threat had been dealt with. 

And with Hanna still alive, perhaps they’d learn more about Alluin’s plans.

She hoped they would. 

Exhaustion came over her. It struggled with the pain, but her body wanted to be free of hurting. Jungeun didn’t want it either. 

She closed her eyes. She could feel the fires still burning around her. Yerim would hate how the trees looked. How they too had been charred. How they'd also fallen to Jungeun's magic. Also dead. 

Yerim. She was strong now. She had reconciled with Jiwoo. Jungeun hoped she would find a friendship again with Gowon. At least one was forming with Yeojin. What if she found Hyejoo again? That would be an even greater comfort. 

Jungeun’s mind went to Jinsoul next. She thought of her smile, heard the echoes of her loud laugh. A little bit of warmth came to her. It was drowned out by cold. Jinsoul had always healed her. She’d blame herself for not healing these wounds. She always carried the burdens of all the people she hadn’t been able to save. 

Jungeun didn’t want to be one of them, but the chances that she would be were high. Unless there was a little bit of life left in her when they came. 

She hoped so. For Yerim, she wanted to be there, to help her adjust to the future. For Jinsoul, she didn’t want her to remember Jungeun as a person she couldn't save. 

There were more reasons why she wanted to stay alive. She knew there were, but Jungeun couldn’t think of them. 

______

The pain came first. Then her legs gave out. 

Jinsoul put out her hands to catch herself. Her palms scraped against the ground. She didn’t feel the pain.

All she could feel was the cold in her chest and how much it hurt. 

One person filled her mind. She knew this was happening to them. 

“What is it?” Nuala was pulling her up. Her hands felt hot. Or was Jinsoul just cold? 

”Jungeun,” she said. “She went gathering.” Shuhua and Yuqi had been with her. “We need to find them.”

She ran out of the tent, several people calling after her. 

She ignored them and sprinted in the direction they would’ve gone. Jungeun always took the same route. 

Jinsoul prayed to the moon that she had this time. 

People were watching her, trying to find out what was wrong. She didn’t stop to tell them. She couldn’t. 

Never had she felt when Jungeun was hurt. Not until now. 

Briefly, she wondered if it wasn’t real.

But even if it wasn’t, she couldn’t risk it. 

Jungeun was still weak. Jinsoul shouldn’t have let her go. She should’ve just told her to wait it out. It wouldn’t have mattered if Jungeun was irritated or hurt by it, just as long as she was safe until properly healed. 

The forest flew by her. 

She tried to sense if she was going the right direction. She couldn’t. Was it because she was panicking? 

Jinsoul tried to breathe properly. If she couldn’t find Jungeun because she was letting the fear overcome her—

She drove the thought away and looked towards the light. It was the only tie she knew there would be. 

She saw a bright figure to her left. Their light was bright grey. There were flashes of green. Yuqi. 

Jinsoul drew away from the light and ran in that direction. She heard her yelling, but couldn’t understand it. 

She came to a stop when she reached her. “Where are they?” 

Yuqi’s eyes were wide. “Shuhua went back. I came here to get the rest of you.” 

“Where are they?” Jinsoul could know what happened later. 

“Fifth patch,” Yuqi said. 

“Go get the others, take them there.” Jinsoul wanted to give her more comfort, but she knew every word that would come out of her wouldn’t do that. 

“They’re dangerous.” She reached for her hand. "And there's too much—"

“Just go get them.” Jinsoul turned her to the camp. “Now!” 

She pushed herself to keep going. 

Jinsoul reached the river. She dove in. She was against the current. She forced it to take her up river. 

Her fatigue disappeared the moment she was submerged. The slow rush of water filled her ears. The panic faded, but she was still terrified.

Jinsoul looked into the light again. She found something leading away from her. Up river, just as Yuqi had said. 

It was weak. Fading. 

Jinsoul forced the water to push her on further. 

Then she was there. She emerged from the water, feet sliding across the floor. 

She felt ice. And she saw fire. 

At least a hundred metres of the forest was in flames. 

Just in front of her were five metres of blood, ice, and burned earth.

“Jinsoul!” It was Shuhua. She had a burn across the side of her face and neck. “I’ve given her all the light I can.” Her hands were shaking. 

Then she saw her. 

Jinsoul stumbled towards her. 

Jungeun’s lips were blue. Her eyes were closed. Blood had coated her chin. Countless cuts were scattered across her face. 

And her clothes were in tatters. What cloth was left was soaked in blood. 

There was barely any light in her. What little breath was left was strained. Her heart beat weakly. 

Jinsoul felt cold. 

She pulled on the water. 

“Draw this sigil,” she said, letting it appear in the water’s surface briefly. Then she made the river water circle around Jungeun’s chest. She filled it with moonlight. 

Jinsoul uncapped the waterskin at her waist. She drew out the water, tipped Jungeun’s chin open. Blood coated her teeth. 

Jinsoul ignored it. She forced the water to fill Jungeun’s lungs. 

The first sigil was drawn. The water hardened. 

Jinsoul drew another. 

She got more water. Repeated it. She didn’t look at Jungeun’s face. 

She paused to let her breathe properly. She hated how it sounded. 

“What happened?” Jinsoul asked, her voice steady. 

“They came here,” she said softly. “They wanted to bring Jungeun to their side. Alluin’s.”

“They?” She finished the next sigil. There’d been no change to Jungeun’s breathing. No change to the light around her. 

Jinsoul didn’t look closer. She couldn’t. Not when she knew that darkness ran through her. 

She put a hand to Jungeun’s chest, over an ugly wound there. She forced light to go through. 

Immediately, she felt her body resist. It didn’t want to give up more light.

She forced it to. 

“An elf and a fairy,” Shuhua said. “The fairy’s dead. I restrained the elf.”

Jinsoul looked. She saw a man largely burned. She turned her head away and towards the other one. 

The elf was breathing more easily than Jungeun. 

“She let her live,” Shuhua whispered. She drew the next sigil. The she gasped. The healing magic was getting too much. 

“Stop,” Jinsoul told her. She took more water from the river, infused it with moonlight. Then she wrapped it around Jungeun again. 

Drawing the sigil, her hands had started to shake. 

She forced herself to keep going. When she looked at Jungeun, she saw that her brow was furrowed. 

“Jungeun?” Jinsoul leaned closer. “You’re safe,” she whispered.

Then Jungeun moved. She jerked away from Jinsoul. She screamed, the sound broken by hacking coughs. 

Jinsoul felt droplets of blood on her face. It burned her skin. 

“Hold her.” Jinsoul took hold of her arms and held them down. Jungeun was stronger than her, but she was weak now. She was in agony. 

Shuhua was holding her legs in place. “They’re here,” she said. 

Jinsoul didn’t look up. Jungeun’s screams had died down, only whimpers now. Tears streamed down her cheeks, marking the ash there. 

Each sound tore at her. 

“It’s okay,” she tried to say. 

“She needs to be sedated.” It was Nuala. 

Jinsoul nearly said no. What if Jungeun didn’t wake up? 

She just nodded. Jungeun had stopped fighting. She just lay where she was, shaking. 

Nuala gave her a vial. It was bright blue. Very strong. 

Jinsoul took it and then put her hand to Jungeun’s jaw. She tilted her mouth open again and poured it in. She used her magic to force it down. 

When Jungeun tried to move away, Jinsoul tightened her grip. She hated that she had to do this. 

And then Jungeun opened her eyes. They were a darker red than they’d ever been. They weren’t looking at anything. 

“The pain will stop,” she told her. “It’ll stop—I’ll make it stop.”

Jungeun closed her eyes, but she nodded. More tears came. 

“It’s okay,” Jinsoul knew she’d was speaking _arcesh_ , “you’re safe.” She wiped away the tears, even though it was futile. 

Around her, Jinsoul heard them talking about the other two. She heard them asking Shuhua to tell them what had happened. 

“—lucky she didn’t kill them both.”

“How long were they here?” 

“‘Soul?” Jungeun murmured. She coughed and blood dribbled down her chin. 

“Here.” Jinsoul wiped that away too. Then she put her other hand over Jungeun’s heart. The skin beneath her hands was like ice. She forced more light through her touch. It ached. Then she felt a wave of cold. She watched as some of the darkness in Jungeun wreathed her wrist, before disappearing under her skin. She felt hatred and rage. Even though the darkness was cold, a part of her burned with the emotions. 

Jungeun hummed. The tension in her face vanished. 

Even with the darkness in her, Jinsoul could only feel how that ache had lessened. It was still there. Jungeun was still hurt, but she was in a little less pain. Jinsoul would take any burden to take it completely away. 

“We have to get her back.” Nuala put a hand to her shoulder. 

Jinsoul felt the elder’s light flow into her. She pushed it to Jungeun. “Give it to her, not me.” Her voice sounded harsher. She hadn’t ever felt a simmering rage before. Was it because this was directly from Alluin? 

“She’s still dying.” Nuala forced her to stand. “She’ll need your magic and your light.” She turned Jinsoul’s face away and held her gaze with calm eyes. “And with what you just took, you’ll need all the light I can give you.” 

______

Olivia ran. She saw the darkness that only ever came with murder. And she could feel Alluin’s grasp in all of it. 

Olivia pushed her legs to go faster. She didn’t know who’d be there. It didn’t matter. She’d take down the attackers, then she’d do what she could to heal whoever had been attacked. She wouldn’t be able to heal the physical wounds. She wasn’t even sure what effect her own darkness would have on an Astra. 

But she’d be able to take out the darkness. 

It was quiet, save for the crackling flames. She saw the fire rise from the trees. Anger and fear hung in the shadows of those trees. 

She dove into those shadows. She hoped that the silence didn’t mean that the wrong people had won. 

From the flames, she knew exactly who’d been fighting. 

Then she heard a scream. She saw the shadows surge towards it, attracted to the pain there. 

Olivia pulled them back. 

She looked to see if spirits were coming. Some dark spirits were making their way over. No bright ones. 

She dug into the darkness. 

_Go_ , she tried to force their attention elsewhere, _not here_. She pushed harder on the darkness within them. If the words changed nothing, the sense of unease—danger—would.

The spirits turned. She'd have to remember that she had some control there. 

Olivia moved closer, past burning trees and across frozen earth. Alluin had wanted to find Jungeun. He’d sent someone with the exact ability to counter her. The elf’s abilities didn’t fully make her weak to the cold, but something else happened. Jungeun had once told her about her not being able to make a fire several days after she’d climbed a mountain. 

It would be like this too. 

She saw the light of two. She saw only darkness in the third. There was another to the side, surrounding by death. The other had been engulfed by fear, but had two segments of moonlight around her. If the even breath was anything to go by, she was unconscious and restrained. 

The thought reminded Olivia of when she’d been trapped by the Astra. 

_This is different_ , she told herself. They’d come only to kill Jungeun. They hadn’t even come for Olivia first. Their focus had been on the Astra. 

Jinsoul and Shuhua knelt on the ground. Both of them glowed. The person in between them did not. That was Jungeun. Every now and then, a glow settled over her body. The surges in light meant healing. 

But Olivia couldn’t see it taking an effect. The darkness barely subsided. 

She tried to pull on it from where she was. It didn’t work. It’d latched onto Jungeun. 

Olivia began to go closer. She’d have to reveal herself, then she’d heal her. 

That was when she saw more beacons of light coming closer. More Astra. Olivia was certain that few would welcome her presence. If anything, she’d distract from them getting Jungeun back. 

Olivia sank deeper into the shadows. She just watched. 

And what she saw surprised her. While other Astra were taking in what had happened around them, seemingly in shock at what had happened, Nuala was calm beside Jinsoul. She was reassuring her, even giving her light. 

Olivia saw then that some of the darkness in Jungeun had gone to Jinsoul. It wasn’t in her heart, but there was still the chance that it’d move there. And if Jinsoul realised she could take away more darkness than she already had, Olivia was sure she’d try to take more. 

And then the Astra would have a severely weakened healer. 

She watched as Jinsoul lifted Jungeun. She watched as someone else picked up the dead attacker, while another took the unconscious one. 

If she’d wanted to help, that opportunity was gone. 

Olivia grit her teeth. She’d been too late. And now she’d not even risked being seen to help. 

If Alluin planned to attack, they needed Jinsoul at her best. They needed Jungeun healed as well. 

Olivia didn’t know if they’d be able to. The light was best for injuries caused by spirits. Time healed the worser wounds. She wasn’t sure if they still had that. 

Alluin had once told her that the darkness they wielded had the potential to work like a poison. It could take over a person. Olivia had once accidentally made it happen. She’d watched Alluin do it as well. Darkness would surge through a person’s body, filling them with whatever was most potent in that magic, be it anger, fear, or something else. And then their eyes would fill with darkness, marking the moment the person was lost. 

It wouldn’t take long until they realised their attempts at healing were futile. And then they’d lose her. 

Olivia couldn’t move, but a part of her felt she needed to. That part screamed at her to go after them. It shouldn’t matter that they’d try to attack her. If she could make them believe that all she wanted was to heal Jungeun, then they _had_ to let her. Didn’t they? 

Jinsoul would let her help in a heartbeat. Nuala probably too. She’d devoted her own long life to healing their people. She wouldn’t deny Jungeun aid just because she was supposed to have nothing to do with Olivia. 

But what about the rest? What if they tried to stop her? What if the moments they lost now would hurt Jungeun more than help her? Olivia couldn’t risk that. 

No, she needed to find a way to help them, but she couldn’t be near the camp for that. 

She thought of Viian. She was the only person who knew where she was. 

And the only person she was in contact with was Doyeon. 

There had to be a way to get word to Jinsoul that Jungeun could be healed. Then she’d meet them, either in the nearby town or the cave and help. If Yerim or Hyunjin were still hurt, she’d be able to heal them too. 

Olivia got to her feet. She needed to go see Doyeon. First, she’d let her know what happened. Then she’d tell her that she’d have to send on a message. 

To the first Astra she came into contact with. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Action hasn't always been my strong suit, but I've read a fair amount of scenes for it. I've also written a few, so I'm hoping it's not too messy. Battles in fantasy are sometimes tricky, especially if the characters have a heightened healing factor. I've seen scenes where someone can keep going after they've lost an arm and been torn between attributing it to an adrenaline rush and/or shock, or just accepting it at face value. Here, I went with the theme that one's magic makes you stronger. On the more 'moderate' level, Jinsoul being in water clears her mind and strengthens her. On the other hand, Jungeun being surrounded by fire, charged by the anger held in the darkness, is also revitalised. 
> 
> As for the rest of this chapter, Olivia's role in the story is made more prominent as the Astra and Alluin's group start to really clash. For obvious reasons, she hates the Astra, but that doesn't apply to all of them. I can't say much to the future events of the story, but I do want to stress that the characters afflicted with darkness become increasingly vulnerable to spirits. It's one of the reasons why, if they know it's there, the Astra go to the site of a battle.
> 
> This was definitely one of the heavier chapters for this story, but I hope you're still as invested in this story as I am. Whenever I come back to this story, I get transported to that world for a little bit. 
> 
> Would really be interested in knowing your thoughts on the chapter! Thank you for reading. 
> 
> See you next chapter.


	29. A risk

Jinsoul shook as Nuala lowered Jungeun on the bed. She hadn’t been able to still her hands. Hadn’t been able to the entire way back. Nuala had offered to take her—no, she’d actually just taken her. 

And Jinsoul was still shaking. 

Nuala was tending to Jungeun’s wounds. Not Jinsoul. 

Because she was shaking too much. 

She stared at Jungeun’s still bloody lips. There was dried blood all down her chin and neck. It was mixed with something else that Jinsoul didn’t want to think about. 

When she breathed, the air itself sounded strangled. 

The light around her was a faded grey. 

Jinsoul pushed down a sob looking at it. 

Never had she ever seen Jungeun this close to the brink. She’d seen her hurt, yes, but she’d never been close to dying. 

She was still close to it. She could still stop breathing. 

There was a chance that she’d never open her eyes again. 

“Jinsoul.” It was Yerim. Her eyes were full of anguish and fear. What was she seeing? 

She opened her arms and let Yerim sink into them. 

Yerim was stiff. That could sometimes be as bad as shaking. 

Jinsoul didn’t ask what she was seeing. She could guess enough from her expression. And she hated what that suggested. 

She just tightened her grip on Yerim. 

“We’re healing her,” Jinsoul told her. “We’ll figure it out.” 

Yerim didn’t reply. 

“Jinsoul,” Nuala said. “She’ll still need tending to her lungs. It’s not healing fast enough.” 

Yerim immediately let go. 

Jinsoul got to work. She took up a waterskin and opened it. Her hands weren’t shaking anymore. 

Calling the water forth, she tilted Jungeun’s head up. Then she opened her mouth, allowing the water to pour in. Nuala held a sleeping powder beneath her nose. 

Jinsoul didn’t put in too much and she quickly drew the healing sigil. Had Jungeun been conscious, this would’ve been disastrous. It wasn’t ideal now.

Then she took the water away. It came out with blood clots and other things she hastily put into one of their basins. 

She took the next waterskin and focused on the wounds still needing to heal. There was the stab wound at her chest. The one where more darkness had come in. It hadn’t gone to her heart. 

Pulling the water and settling it over the puncture, she put what light she had in it. She felt the twinge as too much light left her, but ignored it. Jungeun couldn’t afford more darkness getting to her. If her lungs didn’t kill her, that would. And it would take longer, getting worse as the days went on. 

Jinsoul grit her teeth and took out more of her light. Something started to hurt. Like earlier. 

“Wait.” Nuala put a hand on her shoulder. The skin turned warm. She was giving Jinsoul her own light. 

It eased the strain, when Jinsoul had been close to losing all of her light. That didn’t hurt you, but it made you a lot weaker. 

Jinsoul completed the sigil, watched the water harden. The light in it almost shone as bright as the moon. She left it there. 

“That’s all you can do now,” Nuala told her. She was putting the empty waterskins on a large pile. 

Jinsoul would be filling those up again. Once she replenished the light she’d expended. 

“Go rest.” Nuala was talking to all of them. “It’ll be day soon.” 

Jinsoul heard them shift, but didn’t look up. She just focused on the light around Jungeun. She wanted to believe it had brightened, but she didn’t let herself hope too much. 

Then she looked away from the light and just at Jungeun herself. She’d lost whatever colouring she’d had in her face, be it a healthy warmth or a flustered blush. It wasn’t there. 

Her heart was still so slow. She could’ve easily been mistaken for dead. Jinsoul had almost thought she was. 

It was something she’d feared, but expected to happen eventually. Jungeun considered her survival second to the lives of those around her. She didn’t want to die, but sometimes Jinsoul thought she didn’t mind it. She didn’t fight for it as hard as she’d seen others do it. 

That scared her. She didn’t really know if Jungeun would come back sometimes. She knew that it didn’t matter if she prayed to the moon, the river, or the sky—Jungeun’s fate was, more often than not, in her own hands. She chose to go off alone, or send someone away to protect them, just as she’d sent Yuqi and Shuhua off. She chose to jump between an enemy and an ally. She chose to fight even if she was too weak to win. 

“You should go sleep,” Yerim said. 

Jinsoul wiped at her eyes and shook her head. “I’m staying. You need sleep more than I do.” 

She took her hand. “I thought we were doing things as three now.” She tapped the back of her hand until Jinsoul looked up. Then she nodded back to Jungeun. 

To her right, the cots had been pushed directly against her bed. 

“You’re in the middle,” Yerim told her. 

Jinsoul realised then that the rest had gone. Nuala was going from person to person, checking their wounds with glazed over eyes. She didn’t look worried about them. 

That meant she didn’t need Jinsoul. 

“Get cleaned up, and then we’ll sleep.” 

Jinsoul was taken aback by the authority in Yerim’s voice. When had that come around? 

But she did as she’d said. 

When she came back, Yerim had settled into her bed on the far right, leaving the middle for Jinsoul, just as she’d said. 

“It’s looking better,” she whispered as Jinsoul settled into the cot. 

“You’re not just telling me that?” Jinsoul looked to the light around Jungeun again. Was that a shade of silver she was seeing? It crept through the darker grey now and again. 

“I didn’t tell you what it was like before.” Yerim was speaking _arcesh_ as well. “Because she was too faint, and I could barely find the light.” Her voice was steady, but Jinsoul saw how shaken she’d been. 

Her breath caught. She took Yerim’s hand in hers. “So she’ll be okay.” She tried to feel that confidence, if only so that she could give Yerim the same reassurance. 

Yerim squeezed her hand. “Yeah.” It was both a question and a statement. Even knowing the future didn’t help quell the worry. 

______

Jungeun’s entire body hurt. Each muscle that could ache ached. Every breath seemed a chore, but she was breathing. And she was freezing. 

There was an overall pressure on her. And she did feel something by her head. Fire. She tried to take some of its warmth. It helped, only slightly. 

“Jungeun?” A small set of noises followed, scrambling across the ground, before there was a small creak of wood. 

She opened her eyes. She winced at the light above her, but just blinked several times, trying to get accustomed to it. It was daytime. 

“Can you hear me?” Yerim asked, both hope and worry apparent in her voice. 

“Yeah,” she said. Her voice sounded terrible, even to her ears. 

“Jinsoul!” Yerim’s voice was half-whisper, half-shout. 

“Wait.” Jungeun tried to move her hand, but it was stuck to her side. “Shuhua and Yuqi?”

“Safe.”

“The elf?”

Yerim grimaced. “Still imprisoned.” 

She felt a weight settle in her stomach. “There’s going to be a trial?“ 

“They still want to search her mind,” Yerim said. “I had to make new elixirs, but they were waiting until you woke up. They’ll decide tomorrow.” A pause. “But a lot think she’s had enough time to find a better path, but hadn’t.” 

Before Jungeun could even think of a response, she heard someone rushing over. 

The next thing Jungeun saw was a flurry of blonde hair. Then blue eyes were staring down at her. They were shining. 

Just seeing them brought a wave of emotion over Jungeun. She couldn’t look away from her. 

_You’re safe_. She remembered Jinsoul’s voice and the relief she’d felt even through the pain. 

Two warm hands took hold of her face, their grip extremely gentle. A rush of warmth flowed through her at the touch. 

“Hi,” Jinsoul whispered. There were tears in her eyes. 

“Hey,” she croaked out. “Why am I trapped in a blanket?” 

“You were still freezing after hours by a fire,” she replied. “So we put you in a blanket.”

“Can I get out?” 

“You can’t move around much.” Jinsoul’s expression turned stern. “We managed to get you in the blanket with minimal movement.” 

“I won’t be getting up any time soon, I think.” 

“You know,” she corrected. “Your lungs are still healing. And the stab wound you got hasn’t sealed either.” 

Jungeun smiled. “So I’m closer to a mortal’s healing this time.”

It seemed to strike a chord, because both expressions turned sombre. 

Jinsoul just shook her head. “Yerim, help me.” She pulled her hands away from Jungeun’s face. She missed the contact. 

Together, the two shifted Jungeun, while also lifting her up. The movements tugged at many places in her body, none of the sensations good. 

Then she was free of the blanket and back on the cot. 

Someone then wrapped their arms around her, gingerly avoiding her chest. She smelled of flowers, fruit, and earth. 

“Hi Yerimmie.” Jungeun patted her arm. Even that movement pulled at something. 

“I thought it was going to happen,” Yerim muttered. 

“Thought what?” She was slightly too aware when Jinsoul lay down on her other side. 

“That you were going to die.” 

Jungeun felt her heart sink. She hadn’t been there for any of it, but Yerim would’ve seen how her fate was changing. 

“How’s it look now?” 

“Better,” Yerim said. “But not great.” She huddled closer into Jungeun’s side. It sent a twinge of pain through her, but she didn’t flinch. Yerim needed to know she was there. 

Jinsoul did too, because she leaned her head gently on Jungeun’s shoulder. She was looking up at her. Jungeun didn’t trust herself to look down and meet her eyes. She’d either see the pain or worry Jinsoul had been feeling, or the sheer relief that Jungeun was awake. 

“I’m sorry,” Jungeun said. She lifted her other hand and stroked Yerim’s hair. 

“They went after you,” Yerim replied. “It wasn’t your fault.” 

“But—” 

“Don’t blame yourself,” Jinsoul cut her off. “Alluin _sent_ them here. The only thing you did was go and gather herbs.” 

“It’s not like those other times,” Yerim said. “This wasn’t for revenge.” 

She felt the urge to protest, but she realised it wouldn’t work. Not only were they right about this time, but they weren’t going to let her say anything against herself today. 

The second she decided not to argue, the tension left her body. It still hurt, but she felt at ease. Two of her favourite people were beside her. Yerim could be around the light of the sun without getting hurt. They were safe. 

“Drink this,” Jinsoul said. “It’ll take the pain.” A pause. “And help you sleep.”

Jungeun took the vial. “Want me to shut up?” She let herself smile. 

A warm hand tilted her head up, supporting it as she downed the pale blue liquid. “Maybe.” More warmth seeped in from the touch. Moonlight. 

As Jungeun’s head met the pillow, she felt the fatigue settle over her. Her eyes grew heavy. 

“Jungie?” Yerim said. 

Jungeun hummed. 

“I love you.” The arms around her tightened ever so slightly. 

The cold didn’t feel as bad anymore. Jungeun smiled. “I love you too, Yerimmie.” 

Then sleep took over her completely. 

______

A groan woke her up. 

Jinsoul opened her eyes to see Jungeun stir. Tears streamed down the sides of her face. 

“I’ll get something for the pain,” she told her. Then she leapt out of the bed. She got something for the pain, as well as a sedative. 

When she got back, Jungeun was holding a hand to her chest, eyes wide. Her breath was strained. At least it didn’t sound as bad as before. 

Beside her, Yerim was still sleeping, stuck in whatever dream she was still having. Jinsoul was glad she wasn’t seeing this. 

“It’s okay,” Jinsoul whispered. “Here.” She tilted Jungeun’s head up. “Just let me give you this.”

Jungeun didn’t respond, but she opened her mouth. Her eyes opened. There wasn’t any light there. She couldn’t even recognise the colour. 

Jinsoul forced back her worry and took hold of the liquid in the vial. She tugged it out, letting it flow into Jungeun’s mouth. 

“Should work pretty fast,” she said. “If it doesn’t, I’ll try something else.”

Jungeun swallowed. “You don’t have to.” Another strained breath. “It’s not that bad anymore.”

“You don’t have to pretend,” Jinsoul replied. “No one else is going to hear, but me.” She let moonlight into her skin, then made it go to Jungeun. In the light, she finally saw the dim red of Jungeun’s eyes. She wasn’t looking at her. 

“I’m not.” Jungeun gave her a small smile. “It’s already getting better.” She leaned her head back, eyes trained on the ceiling. 

“Were you reliving it?” Jinsoul asked. Now and again, if Jinsoul woke Jungeun from a nightmare from the past, she’d see flashes of what Jungeun had been experiencing. Jungeun had made it a point to sleep in a different tent if she went through something like yesterday. This time, she hadn’t been able to. 

“Not that,” Jungeun said slowly. 

Jinsoul waited. If she wanted to say more, she would. If she’d keep it to herself, Jinsoul wouldn’t press her either.

“It was after mom died.” That was the tone that said: _this is all I’m saying._

A very different weight came over her. 

Jinsoul pressed a kiss to her temple, trying to give as much moonlight as she could without draining herself. 

_I’m here_ , she wanted to say. “How’re you feeling?”

There was a long pause. The slow breathing of the rest came over them, coupled with Jungeun’s strange one. 

“Weak.” 

Jinsoul felt a pit form in her stomach. If Jungeun needed one thing, it was the ability to protect the people around her. Now she couldn’t move, she still didn’t have her light, and she’d be forbidden from fighting for a long time. 

“Let’s go outside,” Jinsoul said, getting up. 

“I thought I couldn’t move.” 

“You can’t,” she replied. “Unless you’re moving the slowest you’ve ever moved and don’t twist your body at all.” 

“Will do,” Jungeun said. She sounded a lot lighter. Not happier, at least not yet. 

“And tell me if you get dizzy.” Jinsoul stood close to the bed as Jungeun shifted to the side. The chances that she could fall were high. 

Jungeun hissed a few times, but it wasn’t terrible. The elixir she’d given her was one of the stronger ones. 

Still, when Jinsoul took her arm, she let a bit more moonlight go to her. 

“You don’t have to keep doing that,” Jungeun said, voice tight. She slowly rose to her feet. 

“I’ll get it back,” Jinsoul replied. “You won’t be for a while.”

She didn’t reply. Her current lack of magic was more than a sore spot, but a wound. Jungeun felt as if she was powerless. In a few ways, she was. 

When they got outside, Jungeun relaxed. There were a fair amount of people still awake. It must’ve been in the middle of the evening. Both Jinsoul and Yerim had been exhausted once they’d brought Jungeun back. She’d lost track of time. 

“Let’s stay here,” Jinsoul said. “And I’ll get a blanket.” _And water,_ she added in her head. 

Jungeun just nodded. Her eyes were on the flames. They didn’t give much away. In Jinsoul’s experience, that was sometimes worse. 

When she came back, Jungeun was still looking into the fire. The flames hadn’t risen to greet her. 

“It hurts if I try to control them,” Jungeun muttered. 

Jinsoul felt a distant pang in her chest. It came from Jungeun. 

Or at least that was what it felt like. Jinsoul still wasn’t sure what that meant. She wasn’t sure what it had meant yesterday, when she’d known Jungeun was hurt. She just knew that she’d felt a fraction of the pain Jungeun had had. 

“Tell me something.” Jinsoul sat down beside her, moving closer to the fire. Then she put the blanket over them both. Warmth didn’t radiate from Jungeun’s side as it always did. Jinsoul wrapped her arms around Jungeun’s shoulders, pulling her closer. 

Jungeun blinked, the blank look slowly turning into a confused surprise. “About?

“Anything,” Jinsoul said. “Tell me about yesterday if you want, tell me about how much you hate fish, or how much you hate mortal politics, anything.”

“I’m not one for words.” Jungeun smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. 

“Say nonsense then,” Jinsoul squeezed her shoulders, “just don’t stop talking and start thinking.”

“You’ll have to ask me questions as well.” Jungeun began to talk slowly. She spoke of her favourite place among the humans, a people who’d taken to living in the mountains. She told her about their customs and the way they’d welcomed Jungeun despite her being an outsider. “The one problem was changing my hair.” She laughed softly. Some of the darkness in her eyes had cleared. They were still devoid of light. 

Jinsoul nodded. Pale hair was either sacred or something from nightmares for people on this side of the world. 

“But what I loved the most was when they showed me how to navigate the places above,” Jungeun said, an easy smile breaking across her face. 

“Why?” Jinsoul knew Jungeun would let herself be led by others, she’d trust their judgement, because she knew her own was almost always led by impulse. She adored that part of her, but knew that it had limits. The past years had proved exactly that. 

Jungeun looked at her. Her eyes seemed slightly brighter. Jinsoul was relieved to see it. At least the darkness wasn’t completely eating at her. Sometimes it could change the person. It was a brief change, but sometimes painful. 

“Once they taught me where to find water, a few places to get fruits, either cultivated by them or they’d just sprung up there,” Jungeun sighed, “and then I was able to get around myself. Sometimes I fell, but with time, I got it, reaching the peak of that, then another. According to the humans, the ones I reached had never been done before.” 

“Did you tell them you reached it?” 

“Once,” Jungeun chuckled, “and they told me to jump off the next mountain peak I reached. Then they offered me a drink.” She looked at her. “Air sickness, they said, had addled my mind.”

“Wasn’t just the air sickness,” Jinsoul pinched her cheek, “your mind’s always been like that.”

She laughed. It was a weak one, but still hearty. “But now I can say I’ve reached my fair share of the highest places of this world.” 

“Does it feel different?” She wanted to ask why Jungeun hadn’t take her with her. The red-eyed elf had only ever come back with cuts, sore limbs, or bones almost broken. Jinsoul wished she could have known, seen the peaks of those mountains with her and been there to catch her when she fell. 

Jungeun nodded. “Even before the moon shone on us, I felt strong even if I was freezing or couldn’t breathe right.” She let out a long breath. “And I only ever went when the sky was clear, because I felt good on those days.” 

Jinsoul knew that feeling. It’d only made sense after she’d started to control moonlight: they’d always had a connection to the moon. 

“How many times did you go up when you _didn’t_ feel your best?” 

Jungeun had disappeared many times after a trying fight. After one of the fights with the fae, she’d been gone for four months. 

She smiled. “You’d say too many.”

Jinsoul sighed, tightening her grip on the other elf. “You do that too much.” _You’ll get yourself killed one day_. It was a thought she didn’t dare say. Her chest twisted just thinking about it, as if something inside it longed to get out—reach out. 

“I don’t go up mountains anymore,” Jungeun murmured. “So you don’t have to worry about me.” She was still looking at the fire. 

Several objections came then. Jinsoul wanted to say all of them. She wanted to tell her how terrified she’d been yesterday. 

But that wasn’t what Jungeun needed to hear. Not today.

“I wasn’t talking about mountains.”

Jungeun didn’t respond for a long time. She didn’t close her eyes either. “Yesterday was different.” 

“You nearly got yourself killed protecting someone else,” Jinsoul retorted. “How is that any different from when you got hurt on patrol with Chuu? When your head almost got torn off by that vampire? When the wolf almost tore you in half?” She could’ve said more. She could’ve listed off the many times Jungeun had saved her own life. 

But Jungeun would just tell her that Jinsoul had saved her life many more times. It was something she was completely convinced about. Jinsoul could barely say anything to dispute it. 

“Those two weren’t coming for the others,” Jungeun said. “They came for me. Just like the southern Arcsa sent five after me. Just like the Crosa of the west sent fifty in the past two centuries.” Her eyes flicked to Jinsoul’s. “That’s not me protecting anyone. I would’ve been fighting them anyway and both of them’d be dead if I’d been a little more free with the fire.” 

“But one lived,” Jinsoul said. “Shuhua said you spared her.”

She straightened. “How is she? Shuhua.” The guilt in her eyes was evident.

“Healed fast,” Jinsoul told her. “Just shaken from the attack.”

She nodded. A few seconds passed. None of the guilt faded. “I hurt her,” she whispered, her voice almost shaky. 

Something in her twisted just hearing it. When Jungeun’s abilities had first been manifesting, several people had gotten hurt by it. For magic like lightning or fire, that wasn’t unusual. Most didn’t take it well, Jungeun included. 

“She knows it was an accident,” Jinsoul said. “You should too.”

Jungeun shook her head, but didn’t say anything else. 

“Jungeun,” she tightened her grip, “you saved her life.” 

“It wouldn’t have been—”

“Stop.” Jinsoul turned her head to face her. “Don’t say her life was in danger because of you, because it might’ve happened anyway. And don’t start thinking you could’ve stopped it, because that was the only way you saw that could save her.”

Dark red eyes met hers. That was when Jinsoul saw it. Her eyes weren’t reflecting the flames. The orange and red tendrils would dance in her eyes. She never saw that with anyone else. She always liked watching it too. 

She realised then how the darkness was affecting Jungeun this time. Instead of making her irritable, it was drawing her mind into her darkest thoughts. 

“There were a lot of reasons why I didn’t want to die there,” Jungeun said softly. “I didn’t want Yerim to feel that way, I didn’t want my father losing more of his family.” She blinked once and Jinsoul could sense how the tears were starting to form. “And I didn’t want to be someone you hadn’t gotten to in time.” 

Just the thought tore at her. Jinsoul fought the urge to turn away. She didn’t want to hear this. She didn’t want to know that Jungeun had known she’d die. She didn’t want to hear that Jungeun had gone through the different reasons why she didn’t _want_ to. 

“But I did,” Jinsoul replied. “We did,” she corrected. 

Jungeun shook her head. “I remember when you came,” she said. “It didn’t hurt that much once I knew you were there.” Her head came to rest on Jinsoul’s shoulder. 

“I gave you something for the pain.” The ache was coming back. 

“Still,” Jungeun sighed, “I felt safe.” Jinsoul felt her relax.

Jinsoul pressed her lips to the top of Jungeun’s head. She stayed there, breathing in the scent of ash. It always clung to Jungeun. There was also the faint scent of blood, but Jinsoul ignored it. “You’re safe,” she said. 

They stayed in silence then. Jungeun’s strained breath slowed. Jinsoul listened to it. She ignored how it still wasn’t easy. She ignored how cold Jungeun still was. She ignored the darkness that was still inside Jungeun.

She let more moonlight flow into Jungeun. She drew on what light there was in the sky. 

Jungeun’s body fully eased into Jinsoul’s side. And then she was asleep. 

______

“It’s simple,” Freya said. “Were you here to kill Jungeun?” 

The elf began to nod, but her face twisted with pain. “Yes,” she whispered. She looked small. Hardly the person Vivi would expect to have nearly killed Jungeun. 

That was what trials did to a person, especially when they were wounded. Vivi almost thought the girl was lucky. They could’ve brought a mental fae to search her mind. She’d had that happen to her twice. Both times, Vivi hadn’t been able to be around one for several months. To have someone directly scour your mind for your secrets, it felt more invasive than any interrogation. 

“Why?”

“She—he,” Hanna took a deep breath, “the weaker you were, the easier it’d be.” Then she flinched, swallowing hard. “We’d have an easier time getting through you.” 

Something about the wording bothered Vivi. She decided not to comment on it. 

“Getting through us,” Yuol repeated. “That’s his aim? He wants all of us dead?”

“Not all of you,” Hanna said. “He wouldn’t do that.”

“What were the alternatives?” Hyojung frowned. Her and the rest of her group were still there. They’d gone on occasional missions or patrols. Jungeun, Yerim, and occasionally Jinsoul were the ones responsible for a lot of those. “You came for Jungeun, but there were two others with her. Had all three not agreed to come with you, they would have all died, right?”

The elf’s eyes widened. She began to shake her head. 

Someone else spoke before she could. “They left before it could come to that,” Jungeun said. She looked the same as she had yesterday. The only difference was that her eyes were now open. Her hair and skin were still a sickly shade of white. “But when Shuhua came back, she still wasn’t going to kill her. Maven was.” 

Vivi watched as surprise appeared on the faces of many. 

“Is that true?” Freya asked. Her voice was still harsh, but something in her eyes had softened. Maybe she’d be more likely to listen this time. 

Hanna nodded. Vivi knew exactly when she looked at Jungeun. A flash of fear appeared in her eyes. 

Vivi saw the same thing in Jungeun’s eyes. She was also able to watch as that fear was brushed away in favour of a cold gaze. 

She also didn’t miss how Jinsoul’s jaw was clenched. It seemed that she wouldn’t be so inclined to defend the elf who’d almost killed Jungeun. Vivi still didn’t know what those two were to each other. She’d asked Yerim in the subtlest way she could. She’d gotten a very straightforward answer. 

_They know they love each other,_ she’d said. _But one won’t do anything and the other just lets her do nothing._

“I killed Maven by accident,” Jungeun said. “But he got the sentence you all want to give her.”

Silence. Then murmurs. People either voiced their disagreement, or surprise. Vivi had always thought that the non-Astrans wouldn’t have a voice in discussions like this. 

And yet the elders were all hanging back. They weren’t even looking surprised. Freya in particular seemed to look at Jungeun with something surprisingly close to respect. 

“You’ll be merciful when you burned his heart?” Priad frowned at Jungeun. 

Vivi saw Heejin bristle as he spoke. She’d learned of the bond between her and Priad not too long ago. This was certainly not the way someone was supposed to look at their soulmate. 

“She was going to spare their lives,” Jungeun replied. “He wasn’t.” 

Hanna looked stunned by her words. Had they not been discussing her death, it would’ve been almost comical. 

Jungeun looked to Freya, her gaze hard. It was the look one would expect from a girl whose weapon was fire. “One of us could’ve easily died, and the other would’ve wanted it to happen.”

It was then that Vivi spotted a flicker of vulnerability. It passed quickly, but Vivi knew it well. It gave that gave away how shaken you were when you were supposed to still look strong. She’d seen the state of Jungeun’s injuries when they’d come. It’d been clear how close that fight had come to losing the fire elf. 

She risked a look at Jinsoul, whose eyes were only on Jungeun. She wasn’t hiding her feelings so well. There was pain, but also something else. Something that could only be fostered through years spent together.

“But if she brings back something on where we are?” Freya asked. She didn’t look mocking. 

“We were on the trail for the elixirs,” Jungeun replied. “That’s as close to finding us as you can be.” 

“So how did they?” Yuol stepped forward. He looked at the elf as though she were something foul. If she was as bad as that other one, the murderer of several mortals, then she’d earned that look. 

But if she wasn’t, then she didn’t deserve to be executed. 

“How did you find them?” he asked. “A witch? Had your leader already known? Or is there another among your ranks? Someone who’d know where you’d need to go.” 

Hanna looked between them. Her eyes lingered on Jungeun. The fear made her look much younger. 

“Witch,” she said. “We took an Astran to him. She used the blood to find the rest.”

Vivi could feel the disbelief of the rest. The fear. 

“Where did you find them?” Freya’s voice trembled. “Are they dead?” 

Hanna looked away, but nodded. 

“Were you the one to do it?” 

She shook her head. 

“Look at me and say it,” Freya hissed. 

Hanna flinched. “I didn’t kill him. He did.”

“Alluin?” 

She shrank away. “Yes.” 

Silence. 

Vivi didn’t even know who’d been killed. He must’ve been in one of those groups that went out into the Earth. And whatever abilities Alluin’s group had would’ve aided in their assault. 

“Take her to the witch,” Freya finally said. “Find whatever incantations they still placed on her.” A long pause. The elder looked between the others. She even met Vivi’s eyes at one point. Her golden ones were troubled. “And then we’ll let her go.” 

The disagreements had started as murmurs. Now they rose to shouts. 

“It’s too great a risk!” 

“She’ll lead them back.” 

“She went along with his plan,” someone hissed, breaking the gathering’s circle. 

“She’ll be on their side when they attack.” 

Vivi chose to look at Jungeun. She didn’t seem to be listening, her eyes on Hanna. They no longer looked like rubies, but rather like dried blood. Vivi didn’t like that comparison. 

Jinsoul had come to her side, but she wasn’t reaching out to her or talking. Just waiting. For what?

“We’ve spared others for worse,” she heard Heejin say. “Some of us have done _worse_. And we’re all alive.” 

“The ones we spared didn’t endanger our entire people.” It was either Priad or Teveril speaking. 

Vivi looked over. Even through the many discussions taking place around her, she had no trouble finding them. 

“So the moon tells you to make her path disappear?” Heejin whirled you face Kolina. “Or does it show her path _not_ hurting any of us?” Anger had come back to her. 

Vivi looked to where Hyunjin was, only to find her whispering something to Yeojin. The shorter elf looked just as livid. Hyunjin was telling her not to step in. Vivi hoped she’d listen. 

“It’d work better if we had a mental fae.” Haseul was now beside Vivi. “Then they’d all know the 

“She’s afraid,” Vivi said. “And has no hatred for us.” 

She nodded. “That’s what Freya sees. If she’s spared, she’ll remember that.” Then she paused, eyes suddenly thoughtful. “Follow me if you want.” Then she was walking off, right towards the elf in the centre of the chaos. 

Vivi stared after her, watching the determined step. Then she followed. 

Hanna watched as Haseul walked towards her. The fear replaced her confusion. 

“Where’re you from?” The green-eyed elf knelt down in front of her. She was speaking _worsesh_. “Mountains I know, but which?” 

The other elf’s eyes widened. “Originally the Alps.”

“By that one mortal empire or further north?” 

“North.” 

Haseul nodded. “Did they force you out too?” 

“I left,” she said. Quickly. “I didn’t like how they handled things.”

“And how was that?” Haseul tilted her head. “Too tame? Not risky enough?” 

Hanna’s brow furrowed. “Unjust.” She closed her eyes, a small sigh. The elixir was still working. Either that or it was starting to wear off. If the latter, the elf was noticing just how much information she was giving away. The potion Yerim had brewed wouldn’t get everything out, but it was doing well enough. “We never faced something like you had with Olivia, but if we had, she would’ve been executed.” 

If the words affected her, Haseul didn’t show it. “So you mean we’re more merciful?” 

“But still close-minded,” she muttered. “And still cruel.”

“Deserving of a slaughter?” Haseul’s voice was quiet. “Do we deserve being killed for banishing them?”

Vivi knew she should’ve been watching for weakness in Hanna, but she couldn’t look away from Haseul. She wasn’t getting angry and she wasn’t treating Hanna with hostility. She was just calm, asking questions with an edge to them, but nothing accusatory. 

Around them, people were still arguing. Freya seemed to have dug her heels into her decision. Yet there was still dissent. Even from Yuol. 

Hanna shook her head. “N-no.” 

“But you were still helping it along.” The words weren’t an attack. It was just a statement. 

“Yes.” Shame coated her features. 

“Could you do it?” Haseul asked. “Could you freeze the blood of these people?” She leaned forward, lowering her voice. “People you don’t know. A lot of whom didn’t even know Alluin existed until Taegen killed those humans.”

Hanna said nothing, but her eyes gave her away. The will to murder wasn’t something she had. 

“If I’d been told the right story,” Haseul paused, a distant look on her face, “I probably could.”

Why had she let Vivi see this? Did she think Vivi wouldn’t know _worsesh_? Or did Haseul assume she did, and wanted her to watch this? It was obvious Haseul didn’t need her here, so why would she want Vivi to hear something like this? 

“He said we didn’t have to do that,” Hanna said quietly. 

“You think he meant that?” Haseul frowned. “Look at yourself. One person killed two of yours. She didn’t even have the moon on her side. With her was someone much younger than her, not yet fully trained.” Her gaze sharpened. “If Alluin does plan to attack here, he’ll need every single person in your group. It won’t matter if they’re at full strength or not and he‘ll know that.” Then she straightened. “You’re weak now. If you’re sent back, you’ll be the first to fall in the attack.” 

Hanna didn’t respond. 

“If they let you go, find the mountains this side of the world,” Haseul said. “The elves at the base of it will take you in, even once we tell them what you did. They’re also fair.” 

Then she was walking off. Vivi had to quicken her step to keep up. She didn’t ask what Haseul was going to do next. She wanted to see it for herself. Almost everything the elf did filled Vivi with more admiration for her. 

Haseul went straight for the elders. They peered at her, half of them expectant, while the rest seemed frustrated. 

“She’s not a threat,” Haseul said. “We get her to the mountain elves, but not her old people. Then we tell them to keep her there for a decade, and she won’t be a problem for five.” 

One of them looked at Vivi first, before frowning at Haseul. “So after that, if she comes back, what do we do then?” 

“Send me after her,” Haseul replied. “If the seers see something wrong, then I’ll make it right again.” 

Vivi tried not to look surprised. Haseul had questioned Hanna until she knew she was genuine. Now she’d promised to amend a false judgement, well within the ear of the prisoner in question. She’d promised to hunt her down if something in the future changed. 

Vivi risked a look at said prisoner. Hanna’s eyes were still wide, but she looked far less scared than before. Almost hopeful. 

She hoped she wasn’t mistaken. 

Someone else came to the elders. Yves. Vivi tried to look into the light. She saw that Yves’ light was circling her, almost nervously. 

“We need to stop this,” she said. She was looking at those still stuck in discussion, some of them now in arguments. “There’re too many spirits around. Bright, as well as dark.” 

Freya nodded. Beside her, Yuol also did. 

“We’ll take the risk,” he said, nodding to Hanna.

The other elders, even the ones who’d seemed just as outraged as the rest, muttered their agreement. 

Haseul had turned around. She met Vivi’s eyes once. Something cracked then, and fatigue showed through. She started walking away from the elders. 

“I really wish we had a mental fairy,” she said softly. “Then we wouldn’t be having any of this.” She looked at the people arguing, disappointment evident. 

Vivi reached out and brushed her hand, but didn’t take it. “You’re doing incredible without one.” And she meant it. 

Haseul smiled. Vivi felt proud for getting it out of her. “Thank you,” she mouthed. Then her expression hardened. 

They reached Heejin and the others. Still arguing. 

Hyunjin had hung back, but Jinsoul was beside Heejin. Her eyes held a warning, one that was clearly being ignored. Vivi wouldn’t have been surprised if Jinsoul was ready to hold her back. She looked for Jungeun then. She was next to Yerim, who kept shooting worried looks at her. 

“It’s decided,” Haseul said, voice sharp. “She’s going to be brought to the mountain elves. There she’s not going to be a risk.” 

“You can’t know that,” Kolina said, frowning. 

“But you will,” Vivi said. “You have the sight.”

The elf scowled at her. “It’s more complicated than that.” 

Heejin scoffed. “As if you’re the one to listen to for that.” 

Kolina’s hands turned to fists. “Don’t you dare start with that.”

“Why not?” Heejin’s brow rose. “You barely know anything about what rules our lives.”

Kolina took a step forward. 

Hyunjin did the same. Surprisingly, Heejin looked back when she did, face softening ever so slightly. 

The silence that followed was uncomfortable. So much so that Vivi didn’t even want to try and break it. 

But she still tried. “There’ll be the right precautions taken,” she said. “And the Warsa will know what happened here. They will know to hold her.” Her clan had sent people to them in the past as well. It was almost like a mortal’s prison, but their lives were still valued. 

“And you know it’ll work?” Teveril narrowed his eyes. 

“Yes,” Vivi replied. 

“Don’t you think your perspective is skewed?” Kolina asked. “A fae upbringing can’t have taught to value our lives.” 

Heejin responded before Vivi could. “That’s another thing you’ve no right to speak about.” Her eyes shone with anger. As did her skin. “You’re further from our ideals than she is.”

The first blow came. Only a strike of the fist, but it didn’t land. 

Heejin had ducked. “Did I offend you?” She looked smug. 

Behind her, Hyunjin stepped forward, her hands was half raised. The light around her had faded. Strange. 

“Hey.” Priad lifted his hands, stepping between them. When had he come along? “Calm down. We’re listening now.”

“That’s rich,” she hissed. “You’ll say that, but you won’t mean it. None of you ever do.”

Priad actually looked hurt. “That’s not fair.”

Heejin’s brow rose. “Is it wrong? All of you prefer to going to town for their latest brew. Then you sit around fires and hunt the spirits that won’t put up actual fights?” Her lip curled into a sneer. “Don’t you dare tell me you’ve been listening to what I’ve been saying.” 

The elves opposite her were both stunned and quickly growing angry. It was the outrage felt when you were realising you were wrong, but would never admit it. 

The others were looking from Heejin to the others. The air around Hyunjin still felt strange. It made Vivi feel uncomfortable, as if she was looking at a dead animal. 

“Spirit!” Chuu’s voice shot through the noise around them. “Run.” She was beside Jungeun and Yerim then. “Go!” She pushed them. 

Shouts of alarm came next.

And then Kolina gasped. She was looking straight at Hyunjin. 

There were the sounds of thuds, each in quick succession. Too quick to be a person running. 

Vivi felt a surge of warmth. Then disgust. 

A flash of bright light appeared. Several people in the distance shouted. The people near her screamed. A bright glow illuminated them, as though the sun had just started to shine on them. 

Vivi saw Hyunjin’s eyes narrow, before widening. She watched the yellow-eyed elf push Heejin in Vivi’s direction. She barely caught her. 

She stumbled backwards, falling over her feet. Heejin and her tumbled to the floor. 

Heejin was scrambling to get up the moment they landed. 

Then someone shrieked. Their voice was filled with agony. Hyunjin. 

A strangled cry left Heejin. She was on her feet in the next second and running in the direction of the scream. 

Vivi sat up, summoning stone. She blinked several times, trying to rid of herself of the dizziness and nausea. 

What she saw nearly made her panic. 

Someone was pinned to the ground and a spirit had sunk its teeth into her neck. Its claws were dug into her sides. 

Metres away, Heejin screamed. Priad and Teveril had her held between them. She was unharmed, but the sounds she made told another story. Her skin glowed too brightly. Too harshly. 

Vivi looked away and directed her attention to the spirit. Everyone was more stunned than anything. How had it gotten past them?

There was another spirit. Vivi vaguely saw others fighting it. Others stood to the side, weapons of light in their hands. They were gaping at the spirit in their midst. 

Haseul was beside her in the next moment. She yanked Vivi to her feet. Her eyes glowed, as did her skin, the moonlight curling off of her like smoke. 

“Don’t touch it,” Haseul hissed. Then she launched herself at the spirit. 

Vivi followed in suit. She drew up the rock from the ground, before throwing it at the spirit. 

The sound of the contact was faint, but the spirit flew back. Vivi counted herself lucky that it didn’t pull Hyunjin with her. 

She reformed the stone into several spears. Then she drove them into the spirit’s side. It had taken the shape of a large panther. Its coat was bright yellow. 

“Let me go!” Heejin snapped. 

Vivi watched as she shoved Priad off of her, eyes ablaze with both anger and terror. Teveril stumbled as the girl freed herself from him too. 

As Heejin rushed towards it, Vivi saw the spirit’s eyes lock onto her. They were a familiar shade of pink. They held a very familiar anger as well. 

Heejin pounced on it in the next moment, her skin now a blinding white. She dug a blade deep into its neck, another into its eye. That would expend a lot of light. The creature howled, but did not change colour nor lose whatever ferocity was in its eyes. 

Vivi didn’t think, she just took more stone from the earth. She pushed Heejin away from it before the spirit could rear its head and bite her as well. Vivi slammed two pieces of rock against Heejin’s blades. They sank in deeper. 

The spirit shrieked and jumped away. Then it ran, vanishing as it did. 

Vivi expected to face Heejin’s fury for interfering. She saw something worse. Vivi’s heart hurt just looking at her

Heejin walked past Vivi and went straight to Hyunjin. The wounded elf had curled in on herself. Her skin was glowing softly, but the colour was a sickly yellow. 

“You’ll be alright,” Heejin now said, voice gentle, but shaky. “Just stay awake.” Tears streamed down her face. Her hands were pressed to the ugly white wound on Hyunjin’s side. There were glowing claw marks down her neck.

“Are you hurt?” Hyunjin’s voice was strained. “Is it gone?”

“We’re all fine,” Heejin choked out, “and Viian got it.” Her eyes met Vivi’s once in acknowledgement. Then her focus was on the fallen girl again. 

The rest were around them now. The other spirit seemed to have followed its partner. There were no others, but Freya was already sending people to go look for more. 

No one knew how they’d come here. 

Jinsoul knelt down on Hyunjin’s other side. She didn’t summon water. Probably because they only had water filled with light. She started drawing healing sigils in the next moment. Vivi joined her. She’d at least learned how to make decent ones. They kept the worst at bay until actual healers came along. 

Hyunjin’s eyes opened for a second before they snapped shut, a cry escaping her. Her hands went to her neck, covering it. 

“Don’t…move me,” Hyunjin said. “It burns.”

Heejin looked up then. Her eyes were fixed on Jinsoul, pleading. She looked more troubled by the attack than anyone else. 

“I’ll get something for the pain,” Jinsoul said, a reassuring smile on her face. It even reached her eyes. Gone was the stunned girl from before, whose gaze had been fixed on Jungeun, terror apparent there. This was the side of her that could remain absolutely calm when everything seemed to be in chaos. 

“No light,” Hyunjin gasped, “won’t help. Light h…hurts.” She flinched away from Heejin, who was still glowing. 

“We don’t need any more healing sigils,” Jinsoul said. “Just have to wait until,” her brow furrowed, “we can move her.” Then she was gone. Had someone else been hurt? Vivi hoped not. 

Heejin’s expression crumpled. “I,” she stammered. Her eyes met Vivi’s. “I-I don’t know,” she trailed off. “I…I don’t know what to do.” The light in her skin had vanished. She looked lost. 

Vivi understood. All that Heejin knew was light. She didn’t know how much else was used. She didn’t know how else to help Hyunjin.

“Can I cover you’re skin?” Vivi asked. “It’ll just be a thin layer of stone? It’ll protect you from the light.” 

Hyunjin didn’t answer. It probably burned too much. 

So Vivi looked too Heejin. She was the one who’d acted first. Recklessly, but she’d gone too Hyunjin’s side. And those screams…Vivi didn’t want them to, but they still rang in her ears. 

Pink eyes still filled with tears were now tinged with confusion. No distrust. 

“So she doesn’t,” Heejin trailed off, “so it doesn’t hurt.” Then she looked away, eyes finding Hyunjin again. 

Vivi nodded and focused on the rock. Calling on the rock, she let it come in droplets. “You’re alright with it?” she asked. “It will feel strange, perhaps suffocating around your wrists and throat.” The rock settled on Hyunjin’s hand.

She jumped, winced, but then spoke. “I’ll survive.” Then she shifted to lie on her back, hissing as she did. Vivi was surprised she could still move. 

Heejin wiped away the tears of the other elf. For a moment, Vivi couldn’t believe the tenderness she was seeing. Had she missed this? Or had it just been hidden very well? She really didn’t understand these elves as well as she’d thought. 

Then she kept putting the rock over Hyunjin’s skin. The others around them had dispersed. In the distance, the elven elders looked on. Haseul and Yerim were with them. Jinsoul was speaking to the ones who’d fought the other spirit. Jungeun was beside her. She was looking at Jinsoul with a mixture of concern and awe. Another thing that wasn’t hidden so well. 

“It feels alright,” Hyunjin said slowly. “You don’t think you could do my face next?” She smiled slightly. Then she groaned. “I feel sick, leave the mouth free.” 

Vivi did as she asked. 

Hyunjin began talking. “I’m okay.” A cough. “It feels like my blood’s a lot warmer than it should be, but it’s not killing me.” She retched, but didn’t vomit. “I think I’ll live.” A weak smile appeared. 

“Shut up,” Heejin said weakly. “You’re going to be fine.” 

“Probably. If this rock thing keeps feeling this great.” Hyunjin’s smile grew. “Who would’ve thought I’d actually be living under a rock?” 

A weak chuckle made its way through Vivi’s lips. 

Heejin glanced up. It was barely there, but the corner of her lip tugged up. Then she looked back at Hyunjin. It was as if she feared taking her eyes away. 

Vivi left ample room for Hyunjin to breathe normally, but covered her eyes. She also avoided covering the hand that Heejin held. The lack of exposure would help, but she knew neither would want to be separate, especially one. Only when all else had been covered did Hyunjin relax, despite her wounds. 

“Thank you,” Haseul was beside her, “we’re useless when it comes to having no light.” She sounded tired, the spur of the battle wearing off again. That drop was always difficult to stomach. 

Vivi nodded. She looked down at the rock encasing Hyunjin’s skin. What little Vivi could still see flickered that strange light. It was bright, but not in the way moonlight was. Somehow, even Vivi could tell it was unnatural. It was the light hurting her. 

“No light,” Vivi repeated.

“What was that?” Hyunjin’s voice sounded weaker. Exhaustion. 

“Nothing important,” she replied. 

Heejin’s head turned again. Her eyes narrowed. 

“Later,” Vivi mouthed, letting her gaze flicker to those still around them. If they heard what she wanted to say, there was the chance she’d ruin more than she’d heal. 

The otherwise spiteful girl just sighed and sat down beside Hyunjin. 

“Are _you_ hurt?” Yeojin asked. She was beside Heejin, rubbing her back with a comforting hand. 

“Wounds I’ll recover from,” Heejin’s voice was shaky, “don’t worry.” The hand that wasn’t holding Hyunjin’s was balled in a fist. That skin also glowed strangely. 

“I’ll just be lying around here,” Hyunjin interjected. “So I can’t exactly see if you’re here or not.” A small sigh. “So don’t be stubborn, Heekie. Get the damn healing.” 

The response was a short, ‘no’. 

She laughed slightly. “At least I tried.”

And that was when Vivi realised she was intruding. She stood. 

“We’ll get some water without light.” She nodded to Yeojin and Haseul. 

“Thank you, Vivi,” Hyunjin called. “I’m feeling a lot less terrible, honest.” 

“Glad to hear it,” Vivi replied. She meant it wholeheartedly. 

Then the three of them left.

“Are you hurt?” Haseul asked when they were a fair distance away. 

Vivi shook her head. “It didn’t get to me.” She might have pulled something. Those types of injuries hurt, but they healed quickly. Even without the help of moonlight. “How’d it get in?” 

Haseul’s mouth pressed into a line. “I still don’t know. It went so fast.” She sighed. “Fast enough that the seers didn’t see it. And as much as I don’t like them, they’re the ones we rely on to pick up on that.”

“Did something change?” Vivi asked. “Like a defence that weakened?”

She shrugged. “Maybe.” Then she closed her eyes and sighed. That sigh was familiar. Haseul was disappointed in herself. 

“What is it?” 

Haseul looked at her. “It was us,” she said. “We drew them here. With all the anger and fear.” 

“Do they feed off of it?”

The elf shrugged. “I don’t know. I just know that it’s the reason why they were drawn to Hyunjin when Yerim and Yeojin were with her. She was filled with that. And then you had this.”

“It went straight for Hyunjin this time too?”

Haseul shook her head. 

“Heejin?”

A nod. 

“But she’s been angry before,” Vivi frowned, “had it been drawn to her light too?”

“It was anger,” the young elf said. “It called to it.” 

Anger. 

Vivi knew the girl in question would be riddled with guilt. Her resentment and bottled up anger had come to the surface today. The price of that had nearly been Hyunjin’s life. 

They needed to find a way to heal Hyunjin or else that guilt would surely consume Heejin. And she didn’t want Hyunjin to remain in pain. She only knew a hint of that pain that was coursing through the yellow-eyed elf.

Haseul looked at Yeojin, both surprise and pride in her eyes. 

“Did you learn this on your trips as well?”

Yeojin smiled slightly. “No, that was just my intelligence.” 

Vivi chuckled, but was still in her thoughts. Hyunjin didn’t want to face the light. It made her sick. It hurt her. And the wounds were glowing, either draining or poisoning her. She wasn’t sure. 

They reached the river. Vivi drank the rest of her water, removed the moonlight that clung to the inside of the water skin, and then plunged it beneath the surface.

“What’re you thinking?” Haseul was doing the same with her waterskin. 

“I think I know a way to heal her,” Vivi said. 

Her eyes widened. “Then why didn’t you say it immediately?”

“Because your elders wouldn’t approve,” she replied. Would Hyunjin and Heejin approve?

The realisation crossed Haseul’s features in an instant. “We’d have to bring her to where she is.”

“Or a closer meeting point.” Vivi wasn’t sure what Hyunjin could handle. “Will she,” she wasn’t sure how to phrase it, “want to help?” Hyejoo was a good person. She’d seen that easily enough, but what about her own buried anger? 

“Yes.” Her voice had no trace of uncertainty, nor did her eyes. “But you’re right, no one else can know.” 

“Know what?” Yerim was at her side then. 

Vivi jumped. The rocks in the river rose, but she forced them to fall back down with splashes. 

“Sneaking out and eavesdropping,” Haseul frowned at her. An edge of the strictness entered her voice. It was almost comical from the otherwise endearing girl. 

Yerim blushed. “How else am I gonna know what happens around here?”

Vivi saw a flicker of hurt cross her features. It reminded her that elves like Yerim were still seen as lesser. They were certainly not included in any inner circles, save for the one that Haseul had formed. 

“We might have a way to heal Hyunjin,” Yeojin said in a surprisingly quiet voice. “But we’ll need Hyejoo.” She said that part even softer. 

Purple eyes widened. “We could see her again?” Hope filled her eyes. 

Haseul shot her a look, one that was disappointed. Then she looked back at Yerim. “If too many of us go at once, there’ll be talk.”

Her face fell. “And they could follow.”

And catch Hyejoo. Would they force her into whatever situation had been there before? Or something else? Something worse?

“Who tells Heejin?” Yeojin asked. “She won’t let Hyunjin out of her sights any time soon.” 

Vivi hesitated. “I’ll try.” Though she wasn’t sure the girl would trust her. 

“She’ll believe you,” Haseul said. “And we don’t have any other options. At least not yet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are really coming together. Hyejoo is coming back into their lives a little bit more, while Alluin's presence is also stretching over them some more. I hope you're looking forward to that, because I certainly am. 
> 
> As for the comeback, the first few listens for me were strange, because I wasn't sure what I thought. But I can safely say I've added the entire album to my playlist and whenever any of those songs come on, I don't skip. Even then, I'd say Universe is my favourite. 
> 
> Let me know what you thought of the chapter and any other thoughts you might have! I hope you're all doing well. See you then. 


	30. I hope I'll be there

Hyunjin could feel Heejin hovering at her side. The pain was still there, a ton of it, but somehow she felt at ease. The rock Vivi had put around her had helped, even if it was weird to be surrounded by it. Knowing she wouldn’t be allowed to move, unless she broke through the stone. She was too weak for that too. 

Weak. Of course she was. She hadn’t stood a chance against that spirit, but a part of her had thought she would. All of her had known she needed to get Heejin out of the way. With the darkness that was still within her, she’d been a better target for it. That was what she’d been good for today. 

And it was enough. _She_ was the one encased in stone. Heejin was safe. 

But she was worried. 

“You know,” Hyunjin began, “the light might be useful in getting rid of the darkness. Did you check that yet?”

The sound of shuffling feet came then. By the sound of it, Heejin had sat down by her side. She was far away. She didn’t hold Hyunjin’s hand as she had before. It was probably because she thought it’d hurt her. Hyunjin wished she still could. 

Then she stopped herself. Because she was hurt, people would still be able to excuse Heejin’s initial reaction. But now, if she did anything more, that’d bring questions. 

“No,” Heejin said quietly. A long moment passed. “You might be right, but I,” she trailed off. 

Hyunjin wished she could do something to quell that fear, but she didn’t even know herself. Darkness drained, but it also acted like a poison. The wrong type of light was just a poison. It burned too. 

And now she had both. On the one hand, her case was a rare one. The healers, if they were interested, would end up wanting to know what could happen. Jinsoul would definitely try to figure it out. No one wanted to lose someone else, not when they were already losing too many. 

“Hyunjin?” Heejin’s voice trembled. 

“I’m awake,” she replied. “I don’t feel tired, or anything like that.” Jinsoul had started the healing process on her wounds. Even the one on her neck was alright. Had an actual animal mauled her, she would’ve survived. Once again, the benefit of being an immortal. 

“Okay.” 

“Heejin,” Hyunjin wished she could meet her eyes, show her that she actually felt better, “I’m not dying.”

“Don’t say that,” Heejin shot back. Then a second of quiet. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “I acted worse to you earlier.”

When she next spoke, Heejin sounded weak, fragile. “You didn’t attract any spirits. I did.”

At first, she was confused. Then she realised why she sounded like that. Heejin was blaming herself. 

“We all did,” Hyunjin said. “They never come here because one person’s having a breakdown. Otherwise, we would’ve been swarmed when Jungeun got hurt.” She didn’t want to think of how terrible Jungeun had looked when they brought her back. She didn’t want to think about a friend being _that_ close to death. 

She also didn’t want to think about how terrified Yerim and Jinsoul had been. 

“It came for _me_ ,” Heejin whispered. “You’re like this, because you tried to protect me.”

“I wouldn’t have let it hurt you.” Just the thought tore at her. 

“I could’ve fought it.” By the sound of it, Heejin was crying. “You couldn’t have.” 

Hyunjin swallowed the spite that rose at those words. Heejin was right. Hyunjin hadn’t fought it. She wouldn’t have been able to. 

“We can’t change what happened anymore,” Hyunjin said instead. “And this wasn’t your fault. Everyone was on edge, everyone was arguing. And if it hadn’t been me, it would’ve been someone else.” The spirit could’ve gone for Jungeun, someone who held even less light than Hyunjin did. Or Yerim, who was still recovering from her own fight with a spirit. Hyunjin was glad she was the one to get clawed at and not any of them. 

Heejin didn’t reply. It either meant she saw Hyunjin’s point, or she was ignoring her, getting dragged down by a guilt she shouldn’t have had. 

And if she wasn’t listening, there weren’t many other ways to reach her. Nothing Hyunjin could really do now. She couldn’t look into Heejin’s eyes as she told her it wasn’t her fault. She couldn’t hold her. She couldn’t even tell her she was fine. Hyunjin didn’t even know if that was true. She just felt better, but that was it. 

She closed her eyes, but it didn’t block out any more light than before. Vivi had done a really good job on keeping the light out. 

“Give me your hand.”

The low breaths stopped for a moment. For a few seconds, Hyunjin heard nothing but the distant murmurs of the camp. Everyone had been subdued since the attack. They were both in shock and resigned to something very close to shame. The spirits had been attracted to the anger of the entire camp. 

“You won’t hurt me,” Hyunjin continued. “It didn’t hurt earlier once you took back your light.”

A few more moments passed. Of all the days for Heejin to become conscious of the boundaries between them, Hyunjin was surprised it was today. It also saddened her. Even though it shouldn’t have. 

Then a warm hand slipped into hers. Heejin gave her hand a gentle squeeze. Hyunjin felt a slow wave of warmth pass up her arm. It wasn’t light, otherwise it would’ve burned. It was the same thing she’d felt when Dahyun had helped her. 

_The ache fades around those closest to you_. 

There was more to that. Different emotions had different effects. Humour didn’t warm as much as happiness did. And so on. 

Hyunjin stopped those thoughts. Instead, she just squeezed Heejin’s hand back. 

“I think we can find a way to fix this,” Hyunjin said. “The light’ll fade, just like it did with Yerim. Then we’ll just have one problem left.”

“A big problem,” Heejin added. 

She laughed. “Yeah, but just one.” 

A thumb brushed across her hand. More warmth came over her. 

“But the seers stopped looking so concerned whenever they looked at Jungeun,” Hyunjin told her. “Doesn’t that mean the future might turn out alright?” At this point, she wondered if she was really going to need her magic back. Hyejoo had lived most of her life without it. Hyunjin would have to be ready to do the same. 

Heejin was letting her talk. Hyunjin could almost see the expression she was wearing. Eyes half glaring at her, lips pursed, and nose twitching every now and then as she thought. 

“I think I’ll be okay.” She didn’t leave time for Heejin to reply. “I think is the best we have right now. It’s not the best, I know, but, well,” she chuckled, “it’d be nice to stay a little hopeful.”

“It’s just been a few hours,” Heejin muttered. She was definitely pouting now. 

Hyunjin had to smile. “And?”

“I’m still in the worried phase.”

“The moon’s a phase ahead of that.” At least she hoped so. There were still places she wanted to go, if not with Hyojung’s group, then on her own. Maybe Yerim would come with her, or even Yeojin. Briefly, she thought about taking the person beside her with. They’d taken a trip to one of the coldest parts of the world once. They’d huddled together for warmth, both of them glowing as bright as the moon to stop their fingers and toes from freezing off. Frostbite was still possible to get as an immortal. It was just easier to stop. 

There were footsteps then. Hyunjin debated whether or not she should let go of Heejin’s hand. Much of her wanted to, even said hand. She didn’t. At least today, she’d put being there for Heejin above what the rest might think. 

“Is this a bad time?” It was Viian. That was surprising, to say the least. 

“No,” Heejin said. She didn’t sound aggressive, or even passively so. Also a small surprise. 

“Then we’ll need you both to come with us.” Haseul was also here. “Jiho said we should try seeing the witch.” 

“Jungeun too?” Hyunjin asked. 

“They only got help with the light.”

Something felt off. Why wasn’t Yerim included there? They’d been there at the time. They’d _found_ them. 

Unless there was something else. 

“Hyunjin?” Heejin sounded hesitant. Hyunjin knew it was because she wanted to say yes. She knew it was because Heejin didn’t want to make the decision for her. 

“Okay. How am I getting there?”

She was suddenly lifted into the air, her back resting along stone that’d suddenly wrapped around her back. 

A laugh burst from her lips. The warmth of the emotion coursed through her. 

“Wow,” she said. Her grip on Heejin’s hand had tightened. She was surprised Heejin hadn’t let go. 

“Is it okay?” Vivi asked. 

“It’s cool,” Hyunjin replied. “I’m basically flying.” The closest she’d gotten to that was someone letting the wind envelop her or Jinsoul encasing half her body in water and lifting her up. She’d also tried lifting herself up by wrapping moonlight around her body, but that had failed. This was different. Her body felt secure, but she knew she wasn’t on the ground. It was exactly in between the chaos that was flailing in the air and being held within it by a portion of your body. Here, her entire body was just floating. 

She felt the subtle drag behind her as they moved forward. Vivi’s grip on the rock never loosened or shook. It was a testament to how much control she had over that part of her magic. 

“Hanna’s been sent on her way,” Haseul said. “Yerim prepared the ground. Yooa and Seunghee went with her.”

“You really think she won’t be a problem?” Heejin asked. Her voice was steady now. A topic like this, one that extended to their entire camp or external relations—they grounded her. Hyunjin was glad that Haseul had brought that in. 

She let herself doze as they discussed the risks and benefits of sparing that elf. On another day, she would’ve listened. But Hanna was also indirectly the reason why she was hurt now, so she didn’t much care for her. It was good they’d spared her, but that was that. 

“You saw her?” Heejin’s voice cut through the peaceful atmosphere. It was filled with surprise. 

The question was a reflex. “Who?” Hyunjin asked. 

“Hyejoo.”

The name made her heart twist. She’d often thought she’d been detached when it came to that situation, but whenever the thought of Hyejoo came to mind, she realised how much she missed her. She’d stopped looking for her at the campfire pretty quickly, but it was hard not to think of her when she saw Gowon, Yves, and Chuu sitting at the fire, an obvious vacancy among them. 

“When I left,” Vivi started, “I was running from one of those bright spirits. She fought it and healed the wound I had.” 

“Why didn’t you tell us that when Yerim got hurt? Or Jungeun?” Hyunjin wanted to trust the girl, but if this was only coming into play when she’d gotten hurt, that was a problem. 

“Yerim was healing when I returned. No one thought she was in danger after you’d found her,” Vivi said. “And I didn’t know how to raise the topic of Hyejoo while there was another trial underway. With one of Alluin’s followers present as well.”

“Okay.” She could understand that. “But if Hyejoo can help us, she’ll need to help Jungeun too.” 

“You know her better than I do.” Vivi sounded closer now. “So you’d know if she’d help or not.”

“The Hyejoo I know would,” Hyunjin replied. “You saw the person she is now.”

“You think she’s changed?” The confusion in her voice was plain. There was also a little bit of defensiveness. 

“I don’t know.” She’d never really been a person for change. Not really. Both Heejin and Haseul had matured when the burdens of becoming an elder had been placed upon them. So had Yves, while Chuu had grown more serious for different reasons. Jinsoul had changed since first coming here, having needed to overcome a few prejudices, specifically the ones about Jungeun. And after Hyejoo’s banishment, the change in Gowon couldn’t have been missed. That had been the quickest change. 

“How was she?” Heejin asked then. “When you saw her?”

“Healthy,” Vivi said. “Took to the darkness just as you—we do to light.” 

“And how was she really?” Haseul definitely sounded cautious, but Hyunjin knew she’d be hoping for good news. She wasn’t sure if she’d get it. 

“It looked like she’d actually gotten settled into her situation,” Vivi explained. “But she seemed lonely. And angry.” 

It wasn’t surprising, but it still hurt to hear. 

“She knew I was tied to the moon,” she continued, “but still helped me when that spirit was after me. She took the light too.” A pause. “I’m almost certain she’d help you if you came to her.” 

“If _we_ came to her,” Haseul repeated. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Heejin sounded defensive this time. 

Hyunjin squeezed her hand. 

Her tone softened. “Do you think she wouldn’t help the rest?”

“Could we really blame her if she didn’t?” Haseul asked, sounding far away. “What happened wasn’t anything a person could ever forgive.” 

“One thing at a time,” Vivi said then. “This will be the first time you see her. You’ll see if she’s changed or not, how much if she has, and if she’d still want anything to do with the rest of you.” 

That left all of them quiet. Hyunjin liked how Vivi had reduced the situation to a few points. She also didn’t like it, because she didn’t know how to think of a response. 

Then again, maybe that was how she’d have to reassure Heejin. If this didn’t work, she’d definitely have to. 

“You think this is the right choice?” Vivi asked. Hyunjin was sure she was asking Heejin. 

“Yeah,” Heejin said. “And if it could save her, we have to try.”

“And with me not telling you sooner?” The hesitance was back. It was like Vivi expected to be berated by Heejin. It wouldn’t be impossible.

“I think you had a good reason for it,” she replied. 

“Really?” Vivi didn’t even hide the surprise in her voice. Hyunjin was shocked too, but a part of her started feeling proud. More warmth came then. “I trust you,” Heejin continued. “You had a good reason.”

Then she felt Heejin’s hand shift. For a moment, she thought she was going to let go. Heejin laced their fingers together instead. The last time they’d held hands like this had been years ago. Before the bond between Heejin and Priad had been revealed. Of course it had. 

Hyunjin felt her mood sour. She also felt the urge to pull her hand away. The only people there were Vivi and Haseul. She didn’t have to let go. 

So she didn’t. At least not this time. 

______

The sight was back. Choerry might’ve missed it, but she wished it had stayed away. 

It hadn’t helped Hyunjin. The spirit’s presence had come too late for that—for all the people with the sight. 

She’d only been able to watch how Hyunjin’s path had disappeared a second time. She could now see just how faint Jungeun’s path still was. 

“Were we not supposed to go?” Yeojin was looking at her, the hurt evident in her face. 

Haseul had said it was better if they kept the group small. Neither Yeojin nor Choerry had wanted to stay behind, but they’d needed to. 

“We can’t risk them finding her,” Choerry replied. 

That got rid of any plan Yeojin might’ve had. Choerry watched her shoulders deflate and the disappointment take over. 

“I don’t know yet,” she started, hoping she’d be able to reassure her, “but we’ll be able to see her.” 

“Unless she leaves,” Yeojin muttered. 

“Then we could follow her.” 

She frowned. “You wouldn’t leave here.” 

Choerry shrugged. “It’s not exactly leaving. We’d be doing what Binnie and Dami do. We’d come back.” She didn’t think Jungeun or Jinsoul would be able to stand her leaving. She also didn’t want to ever leave them. They were as good as family—better than family. 

Yeojin didn’t look convinced. “Then why didn’t we do that sooner? Why didn’t you?”

“I didn’t know if she’d want to see me,” she replied. She remembered how relieved she’d been to finally see Hyejoo again. “We still don’t know if she wants to see us.”

She just nodded, before sighing. “I get it,” she said. “We’re a reminder that she can’t come back. And what she doesn’t have.” She looked up to the sky and scowled. “I hate this.” A piece of moonlight appeared in her hands. She stabbed it into the ground. Then her eyes widened. “This doesn’t hurt you, right?”

Choerry laughed. “I’m not connected to the ground like that.” Then she glanced up at the moon. “But we don’t know if hitting that would hurt you—us.”

Yeojin looked at her, the scowl softening. “Do you still feel like you’re not Astra?”

“What?” It was a pointed question, one she’d grappled with for a while. “I do.”

“But you still think of it like there’s a ‘you’ and ‘us’,” she said. “It’s still a reflex for that to be distinct.” She didn’t look distrustful like before. She didn’t look as sad either. It looked like she just wanted to know. 

So Choerry didn’t reply immediately. When she’d first come here, she’d thought she’d never be a part of the Astra. She’d never thought they’d let her in, so she’d decided that she wouldn’t even try. 

She’d been told that Jinsoul had been like that in the beginning too. She hadn’t even wanted anything to do with Jungeun. Choerry had been the opposite. She’d stayed near both of them, even though she’d not wanted to speak. She hadn’t wanted the Astra knowing any more about her than they needed to. She’d wanted to stay a stranger. 

But the others hadn’t let her. Jungeun and Jinsoul had gotten her out of that shell, Hyunjin and Hyejoo had come next. And then they’d brought her into the fold. 

Over the years, Choerry had needed to see that the moon’s light had ensured that she’d _always_ been a part of the Astra. Even if some Astra still struggled to justify that, Jungeun, Jinsoul, and her were all still Astra. Vivi was Astra, as was Hyejoo, even if she hadn’t gotten the moonlight. It was either the light that made you one, or the place you called home. Choerry had finally gotten to the point where the Astran camp was her home. 

“I thought there was a difference,” Choerry said. “I didn’t want to belong here, because it meant I didn’t belong with my family anymore.” She still missed them. They visited the different elves often. They’d also visit Vivi’s family when the time came. “But I don’t feel that way. Haven’t for a while.”

Yeojin nodded. She looked between the ground and her. Choerry was used to her being either fiery with enthusiasm or something close to irritation, or anger. Now she just seemed subdued, thoughtful. 

“I remember when you first got here,” Yeojin said. “But not really the way you acted.”

“I didn’t talk to any of you,” Choerry chuckled, “of course you didn’t know what I was like.”

“Still,” she shook her head, “I didn’t try. 

“You didn’t have to.” And as far as she knew, she wouldn’t have been all that welcoming to Yeojin. 

“But after that too,” Yeojin sighed, “I just saw you as someone who smiled a lot. I barely thought about what you’d been through. That you had to leave your home.”

“Jungeun and the others did the same.” 

“I know,” she said. “But that never really sank in. I just thought it was hard, because we didn’t acknowledge it at first.” Her orange eyes closed. “And it was that, but also the rest of it came into that. It’s like what Vivi’s going through too, right?”

Choerry nodded. It felt strange listening to Yeojin spill her thoughts this way. She was used to those thoughts coming out on impulse, but not like this. 

“I’m sorry for that.” Yeojin looked at her. “I’m really sorry that I’m just realising that.” 

“It’s okay,” she said. 

Again, she shook her head. “No it isn’t. It’s that thinking that made Jungeun’s first years here shit. It’s what made you, Jinsoul, and the others not want to be here. It’s what Vivi’s got now, and it’s like we haven’t changed.”

“But you realise that,” Choerry told her. “Not many were before. Things’re getting better now. They will get better.” Maybe not to the point where Hyejoo could come back, if she even wanted to, but the rest of the Astra would accept Vivi and any others who weren’t fully elven. 

And if Yeojin and others like her were seeing where things had gone wrong, maybe they’d get to the point where others wouldn’t be rejected. That would include the people who didn’t get the moon’s blessing. She hoped it would also include the ones who got the opposite. 

______

Olivia’s stomach twisted when she felt the light. Both the pure light of Astrans and the sickly light of bright spirits. She wanted to turn away. She wanted to _run_ away. 

But she forced herself to stay where she was. She forced herself to look into the light of those people. 

And then she recognised them. All tension faded. Confusion took its place. Why was Viian leading them here? Why did one of them only have darkness and corrupted light? And what had happened to take Haseul away from camp? The thought of seeing Olivia? 

She also recognised the grey shadows of fear in them. It was the strongest in Heejin. She also had the darkness of anger, as did Haseul and the third person Olivia couldn’t recognise. Except that person’s anger wasn’t her own, but Alluin’s. The anger in Heejin and Haseul was their own. How could they have gotten so much in the past years? Not even Viian had that much. The half-elf had a fair amount of darkness, but in the way that Jungeun and Haseul had always had—darkness from years of fighting. That darkness wasn’t anger, nor was it hatred. 

Her feet started moving. How would it be to see them again? She’d already seen Yerim and Jungeun. She’d barely had the choice of seeing them or not. They’d needed her help. 

She had the choice now, didn’t she? She could disappear and then run off. They wouldn’t find her. Alluin might, but she doubted they’d be able to. Alluin had said that the sight of the seers wasn’t fully accustomed to people like them. She could hide. 

But whoever that fourth person was, they did need her help. 

And she could always run after that. 

Still, she let the shadows close around her as she walked. 

As she got closer, she could hear them speaking. 

“How am I supposed to know how much a spirit can take?” Viian was asking. 

“You learn how much you have to use,” Heejin replied. “Some people still use too much, but if you’re lucky, that’s either not absorbed, or you can take it back before it is.”

“But you haven’t quantified it?” 

A chuckle. It came from Haseul. “No one has to. It’s something that comes with experience.” 

“But wouldn’t it be more efficient if you knew exactly how much you could use? How much you had with you?” 

Now Olivia could see them. Haseul had cut her hair short to just above her shoulders. She could see the fatigue in her eyes, but there was something tender about the way she looked at Viian. 

Heejin stood beside a floating piece of rock. It was about the size of a person—no, it held a person. The fourth one Olivia couldn’t recognise. The person who’d been poisoned by light. 

“We went over this with Darie—I mean, Dahyun, one time,” Haseul told her. “She said we should figure out how much the moonlight we had weighed and maybe base some calculations off it. I asked her if she knew exactly how much of one emotion she had.” 

“Did she know?” Viian sounded hopeful. 

“No,” she replied. “But she told us she tries to find the answer to that every month and that we should do the same.”

Olivia was close enough that she could see Viian deliberating over that. She could also see the tenderness in Haseul’s gaze, as well as the humour in Heejin’s eyes, despite the girl still looking worried, and close to exhaustion. She was holding the hand of the person in the stone.

She pulled herself away from the shadows. She watched the surprise enter all three of their faces. 

“You shouldn’t start with that,” Olivia said. “Otherwise you’ll be spending centuries on something you don’t need.” 

Viian’s brow furrowed. She opened her mouth, as if to reply. Then she looked to the other ones around her and the confusion on her face vanished. She took a step back. 

“Hyejoo.” Heejin sounded as if the breath had been knocked from her lungs. Her eyes were wide, but they shone. 

“Hyejoo?” The voice was muffled by the rock. “You’re really here?” It was Hyunjin. 

Then someone engulfed her in a tight hug. Olivia recognised them immediately. The subtle scent of jasmine and the all-encompassing embrace gave it away. 

Olivia felt herself relax into Haseul’s arms. “Hi.” 

Haseul laughed, pulling her closer. “I always hoped I’d see you, but I almost didn’t think I would.”

“Me neither,” she admitted. Until she’d seen Yerim and Jungeun. That’d made this seem more possible. 

But seeing Haseul, Hyunjin, and even Heejin—it made it real. 

“Why’re you here?” Olivia asked. “What happened to Hyunjin?” 

Haseul pulled away. Tears were trickling down her cheeks. Olivia had rarely seen her cry. She immediately dabbed at them with her sleeve. 

“We were attacked by two bright spirits,” Heejin said. “One went for me, but Hyunjin stopped it.” Some of the shadows around her surged. A new type of darkness, one Olivia hadn’t seen much of. Guilt. 

Olivia nodded. Then she went over and pulled Heejin into a hug. She hadn’t given a hug in a while. Now she was. Someone from the Astra at that. 

Heejin hugged her back, almost stronger than Haseul had. 

“I missed you,” she said. “So much.”

“Same here,” Olivia admitted. 

When she pulled away, she looked at the rock surrounding Hyunjin. She could faintly make out thin strands of yellow in her light. It wasn’t enough. She didn’t know what happened to people in this state, but she didn’t want to find that out. 

“Come on,” she said. “We’ll go to a place without any light.” She poked Hyunjin’s palm once. “Then I’ll make sure you can actually be in the moonlight.”

______

Chuu stared at the ground. One path stood out to her. It was the path that called out to her most of all. It crossed hers perfectly. No matter where she moved, it would still cross hers. It was inevitable. 

She walked deeper into the forest, maintaining the glow of her skin. She wasn’t supposed to risk being exposed to another spirit, but the next hour was going to be important. Maybe it would be more than that. Or less. 

She’d seen the path of that bright spirit too late. She’d shouted out the warning too soon. It hadn’t mattered, but she’d said it. Sooyoung had been beside her too. She’d looked bewildered. 

And then exactly what Chuu had said had come about, with the other seers recognising that change as well. 

Sooyoung knew now. Or she had a very good idea. Either way, she was going to confront Chuu about it soon. 

And she dreaded it. 

She found a decently sized stone and sat down. Her head found her hands. She found some comfort in just closing her eyes. Even if she only saw paths behind them, at least she didn’t have to look at the actual world. It had always been overwhelming growing up. Her only solace had been sleep. And even that had given her occasional visions. It was often something happening elsewhere in the world, so often related to the lives of mortals. She’d seen kings fall in battle, nobles poisoned at meals, while soldiers were struck down in waves. 

Whenever she woke from a vision, she was relieved to only be in the present. Even if she still saw paths, it was better than being submerged in the future. 

“Did you know I was coming?” Sooyoung’s voice wasn’t cold, but it didn’t hold any warmth either. 

“Yeah,” Chuu replied, knowing her voice was muffled by her hands. She didn’t dare look up. 

“And that the spirit was going to attack?” The accusatory edge in those words hurt to hear. 

“Too late,” she said. “There was a lot already happening. The change in Hyunjin’s path came suddenly. And with the darkness she had, I hadn’t been able to see her path well in the first place. The same for Jungeun.” The words spilled from her mouth. In a way, it was a relief to be able to talk about it so freely. It also was far from freeing, when she knew that Sooyoung was stuck in a spiral. She probably felt betrayed, each subsequent mention of Chuu’s sight feeling like a stab. 

“That’s how you knew they were in danger. Her, Yerim, and Yeojin,” Sooyoung was closer now, “right?” 

Chuu’s eyes were burning. She was glad she was covering her face. Whatever happened now, she didn’t want Sooyoung seeing her cry. That would make her feel guilty. And that was far from the truth. All of this was Chuu’s fault. She was the one who’d lied. 

“Yes,” Chuu said. “Their paths were going home, they looked fine.” She still remembered the dread—the panic. “And then they started fading. Hyunjin’s was gone. Then Yerim’s vanished too.”

“Because she knew Hyunjin was going to die,” Sooyoung said. “Because she’s a seer too.”

She felt ice trickle down her back. 

Chuu lifted her head. “What?”

Sooyoung held her gaze, her expression unreadable. “When you started going on patrol with Jungeun and her, there had to be something else. Now I know why.”

Something in her felt weak. She felt her shoulders droop. She looked away from Sooyoung. There wasn’t a path that led away. Not yet. 

“When did she get the sight?”

“After Hyejoo was banished,” Chuu said. “She was out on patrol and it overwhelmed her. She came to me then.” 

Sooyoung was quiet for a few seconds. Then, “so Jungeun and Jinsoul know too.”

Her heart sank further. “Jinsoul only found out recently.”

“They lied to her too?” There was a clear bite in her voice. 

The words stung. 

“She was scared,” Chuu said. “Jinsoul hated seers.” _Just like you sometimes do_ , she thought. 

“That’s why you never said anything?” Sooyoung asked. “You were _scared_?” The calm in her voice was falling away. “You kept it a secret from all of us. What if you knew something that could help us?” 

Surprisingly, Chuu felt angry. Was it because she was defensive? “If I could help— _properly_ help—I did,” she said, getting to her feet. Now she forced herself to look Sooyoung in the eye. “I told Jungeun if I knew someone was in danger. Or Eline, because sometimes she hadn’t been looking at the same paths.” _I tried to follow if she wasn’t there,_ she thought. _And I tried to lead us in the right direction each time._

“You told them,” Sooyoung repeated. “Just like that?” 

“Eline and Jungeun are the only ones who know,” she replied. “Both can act better than I can once I’ve seen what’s coming.” 

“We could’ve found Hyejoo sooner,” Sooyoung hissed. “You would’ve known where she went, right?” 

She had. She didn’t reply. 

“Did Eline forbid it?” she asked. “And you thought those rules were more important? More important than keeping Hyejoo from hurting others? From making everything worse?” 

“She didn’t know.” Chuu shook her head. “We never looked, because there was never a time for it.”

Sooyoung scoffed. “And you can tell that too?” She stepped forward. “Did this conversation have the right time?” 

“Yes.” But she wasn’t sure if what followed would be in either of their favours. “To look for Hyejoo before would’ve been to find her at her very worst,” she said. “And whatever risk we’d had when we actually sought her out would’ve become a definite threat.” She let that sink in. “We both know we’d deserve that.” 

The other elf winced. 

“Instead, when she saw me, she ran away.” Chuu sighed. “And the first people she talked to were Jungeun and Yerim. Now the others are going to her, Hyunjin’s _hurt_. She’ll help her.”

“And you know that?” Sooyoung raised a brow. “You know they’re safe?”

“Not yet.”

A long pause. The more seconds that passed, the worse Chuu was feeling. She’d dreaded this moment for years. Now that it was here, it felt worse than the rest. Sooyoung wasn’t screaming at her. She wasn’t outright calling her a liar either. She was just asking these questions, a mixture of anger and hurt in her eyes. 

And Chuu could still see the bond that stretched between them. Its light hadn’t flickered once. 

“Why’d you let Jungeun find out?” 

“I couldn’t not,” Chuu told her. “Yerim told her what she was seeing. What else was I supposed to do?”

“Give her an excuse!” Her red eyes glittered with anger. Surprisingly, it didn’t make Chuu want to shrink away. “You always did that with us. Every time something seemed a little too convenient. You told them _way_ before you told any of us.” Her voice quieted. “You never told Chaewon. You never told me.” A pause. “Why?” A crack showed in the anger.

Chuu was lost. How could she explain it? Without falling into a misunderstanding she’d have difficulty manoeuvring away from? 

Sooyoung was still looking at her, both still angry, but also asking her to say _something_. 

So Chuu looked for what she could say. Then she spoke. “It was always supposed to be a secret. For a long time I thought the _sight_ was a curse and then it became a cage.” 

She looked up to the sky. That always helped. There’d be no trees illuminated to show her path. Up above were only stars, clouds, or nothing. Sometimes the moon came into that view, but she turned away then. 

“Why tell you of something I didn’t want to think about?” Chuu asked. “You’d ask me questions, though only out of curiosity, and I’d answer, dwelling on what may or may not come, rather than what was and is.” 

“You could’ve told me you didn’t want that,” Sooyoung replied. “And I would’ve never asked.” 

“You would’ve been stuck questions that would never be answered,” Chuu smiled, “and that’s exactly what you hate.” It was then that she realised Vivi and Sooyoung would get along well. If today didn’t end a catastrophe, she’d work on getting that. 

She also realised that she had to say something else—that she had to be completely honest. 

“There’s another thing,” Chuu began. She felt the dread build up in her. She was torn between looking at her and avoiding her gaze. Her gaze was too insistent, too filled with emotion. “The moon bound us. It was before Heejin’s bond showed itself.” She remembered how terrified she’d been. She’d dreaded the day the elders would reveal it. She hadn’t ever wanted Sooyoung to know. The beauty she’d found in other people had been admirable. She’d fallen for them, so often unconditionally. Chuu had never wanted her to think she had to bow to the moon. 

And the elders had never announced it. Chuu still didn’t know why. She’d asked Eline once. The response had been that they wouldn’t have revealed it. 

“How long?” Sooyoung sounded quiet again. 

“More than a century,” she said. “Halfway to two? 

“You’ve known all that time.” Her voice was too level. “And expected what to happen?” 

“Expected?” Chuu found it in herself to look up. That anger was back. “I _expected_ nothing. If I’d _ever_ wanted that, I would’ve told you.” She knew that came out wrong. She’d felt something for Sooyoung before the bond had come. 

“I wonder why I never felt at home with the rest,” Sooyoung began, “and why that feeling was only ever with you.” Her eyes hardened. “You could’ve told me. This could’ve all made sense.” 

“It’s not as if the light binds us forever,” Chuu protested. Her eyes weren’t burning anymore. That surprised her. 

She frowned. “That’s exactly what it is.” She looked as lost as she did angry. Chuu wished she wasn’t the reason for that, but she was. 

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” she said. “It’s our actions and feelings that’ll mean something.” She didn’t mention that she’d let her own actions turn Sooyoung further away from her. She didn’t mention how she’d tried to fight against the bond, desperately trying to never to strengthen those feelings. “So we just let the light exist until it fades. And it will,” she said. _It just hasn’t yet_. _Not even now, when you could so easily hate me_. 

Sooyoung blinked. “You want it to fade?”

 _No_ , Chuu thought. “It seems to be the better option.” 

Her eyes widened. “What?”

Was she surprised that Chuu would say she wasn’t an option for her? Was she surprised that Chuu would doubt the moon? She wasn’t sure. 

Chuu just nodded. “You never wanted to be bound to anyone,” she said. “And you never respected seers. You also hate liars.” She shrugged. “Wouldn’t it be better if you weren’t bound to one?”

Sooyoung didn’t reply. The hurt was still there. The anger was too, even if it’d been dampened by everything else. 

“I need to go,” Chuu said. “I was on guard.” 

As she walked off, Sooyoung didn’t say a thing. She didn’t move either, if Chuu’s ears were to be believed. 

Chuu let out a long breath. She’d feared Sooyoung learning of this, but now she knew. There was some peace to be found in that. She’d worry about what followed later. After she’d finished guarding the camp. 

______

Heejin watched as the sickly light coursed through Hyunjin’s skin and towards Hyejoo’s hands. She heard a sharp intake of breath. Hyejoo’s fingers turned a pale yellow and they tensed up. 

“You can give me some,” Heejin said. 

“No,” Hyejoo shook her head, “it’s just a brief pain.” She pulled her hands away. The strange yellow light had spread to her wrists. 

Then the skin turned black, as though she’d dipped her hands in ink. Hyejoo sighed, the tension leaving her body. 

“Is it all gone?” Hyejoo asked, her voice heavy. 

Hyunjin sat up, the rock around her crumbling with gentle cracks. She was pale, but no light flickered in her skin. Her eyes weren’t that weird shade of yellow. “It’s gone” she croaked. “I—oh!”

Heejin had pulled her into her arms. Her skin was cool, no longer that strange warmth from before. 

Hyunjin chuckled and returned the hug. Her grip was weak. 

Heejin closed her eyes, trying to warm her as best she could without giving her moonlight. And she needed Hyunjin to be as close as possible, where she could hear her breathing, feel her heartbeat. 

Vaguely, she heard the others leave the cave. She silently thanked them. She’d thank them again. After this. 

“Heekie,” she began. Finally that name. “I think I’m—”

“Wait,” Heejin tightened her grip, “wait.” 

Hyunjin was silent. In the next few moments, it turned into Hyunjin holding _her_. Another low laugh. “Don’t cry. I’m okay.” 

“That’s what you said last time.” 

“This time I mean it.” A soft kiss was pressed to the top of her head. Another thing she hadn’t felt in years. “Thank you.” 

Heejin shook her head. “Viian and Hyejoo saved you.” 

“You trusted her.” A longer kiss was pressed to her temple. 

Her chest tickled at the contact. How long had it been since Hyunjin had done anything remotely like this? 

_Too long_. 

“I didn’t have a choice,” Heejin said. 

“Maybe,” Hyunjin murmured. “But you can be stubborn even when you have no other options.” 

“Not for this,” she shot back. “Not for you.” Had she let her pride rule over her, Hyunjin would still be suffering. She might have even died. It was because of her that Hyunjin had gotten hurt in the first place. Because she’d let everything build, because she couldn’t control her anger. 

She closed her eyes and rested her head on Hyunjin’s chest. The girl’s heart beat slowly, weakly still, but it was beating. 

A hand combed through her hair. “If you want to sleep, give me a warning.” 

“I won’t sleep,” Heejin replied. “I just need to know you’re here.” _With me._

“You know,” she could hear Hyunjin’s smile, “I’ll still be here if we start walking back.” 

“I know.” 

“And we should go outside. There’s people I need to thank, and someone I need to hug.” Her arms tightened around Heejin. “After that I won’t leave your side.” 

Heejin smiled. “Promise?” She looked up to see Hyunjin’s eyes were starting to reclaim their glow. They really were beautiful. 

“I promise,” Hyunjin whispered. 

Heejin wanted to lean in, but she caught herself. They were far from that. Whatever closeness Hyunjin allowed herself to have would vanish. 

Hyunjin pressed a kiss to her forehead then. Her lips were cool against her skin. “Help me up.” 

Heejin didn’t want to let go, but she pulled her arms away, only going back to take the other’s hands. 

Hyunjin began to stand, but her legs were shaky. Heejin tried her best to steady her as she pulled her up. When they were standing, she wrapped an arm around the other’s waist. 

“This is where she’s been living,” Hyunjin murmured. Her eyes searched the cave. “Alone.” 

“I know,” Heejin said. The space had clearly gotten some pieces to it to make it more comfortable, but it was still a cave. 

They went outside then, spotting Haseul, Viian, and Hyejoo sitting together at the edge of the plateau. None of them were speaking. 

“Hyejoo,” Hyunjin rasped. It sounded painful and Heejin cringed. Hyunjin gave her shoulders a squeeze before letting go. 

Hyejoo stood, turning, her eyes both hesitant and hopeful. What was going through her head? Seeing them after so many years. Having to help them, despite not speaking a word to them in those years. 

“How’re you feeling?” Hyejoo asked. Her voice was quiet, careful. 

“I’m not burning and I’m not sick.” Hyunjin went forward then, her steps slow and unsteady, but Hyejoo met her halfway. 

Heejin watched as the tension left Hyejoo’s body and she buried her face into Hyunjin’s neck. 

“Thank you,” Hyunjin said. “Thank you for agreeing to help. You didn’t have to.” 

“I had to,” Hyejoo muttered. “Viian said it attacked you in camp?” 

Once, she would’ve called it ‘home’. 

“Yep, in the day time too,” she replied. 

“And a bright spirit.” Hyejoo pulled away. There were tears in her eyes. “I don’t know what’s been happening,” she frowned then, “has anyone else been hurt?”

The words shouldn’t have had such an impact, but Heejin felt her chest tighten then. Hyejoo was still worried about the others. That didn’t mean she’d forgiven them or didn’t hate them, but she wouldn’t turn them away. 

“Yes,” Heejin said. She didn’t explain the extent of it. “And the other kind have become more aggressive and harder to convert.” 

When she looked at Hyunjin, she saw her looking at Hyejoo with a strange expression. It vanished soon after, replaced by rapt attention as she listened to her. 

Hyejoo nodded once. “So that’s why they started looking for me.” 

Hyunjin froze. “What?”

She looked between them blankly. “I thought you knew about the searches.” She glanced at Viian. “Didn’t you?”

The pink-haired girl shook her head. “We never got to that.” 

Heejin tried to quell her anger. “They’re blaming you?”

“It’s their theory,” Hyejoo shrugged, “but they can never find me, so most ended up giving up.” 

And she’d let them find her. She _trusted_ them. Still. 

So much of the past years flew back at Heejin. The anger, the guilt, and how much she’d _missed_ her. It struck her like a slap. 

Her eyes burned again. It was a wonder that she still had tears left to shed. 

Within seconds, a pair of arms had gone around her. Not Hyunjin’s or Haseul’s, but someone who smelled just like the cave they’d left. Someone who was just muscle and bone now. Someone whose skin was naturally cool. 

Heejin returned the hug. Maybe with more force than she should’ve. 

Hyejoo huffed a laugh. “You’re going to crush me. Almost did earlier too.” 

“Sorry.” She loosened her grip. “I missed you,” she said again. It was far from everything she wanted to say, but it was at least a piece of it. 

“I missed you too.”

“I’m sorry we didn’t come to look for you sooner.” 

“I wasn’t in this country.” Hyejoo patted her head. “And I don’t think you would’ve been allowed to.” 

“That doesn’t matter,” Heejin said. “I don’t care about what they’ll let us do.” She pulled away to look her in the eyes. Hyejoo’s eyes had gotten darker. They lacked the flickers of light from before. They were also more sunken. “I should’ve looked for you.”

A small smile appeared. “You’ve seen me now.” 

Heejin wanted to say something else. She wished she could ask her to come back. She wished she could stay with her, even if it meant sleeping in that cave. She wanted to know everything about the years that had passed. She wanted to know _how_ she was. 

More than anything, she didn’t want to leave her alone again. But they were expected to come back. Hyejoo was supposed to stay far away. If they thought she was responsible for the spirits, there was no telling how she’d be treated. 

“So you have spirits as companions now?”

The smile grew. “One. Ikopar.” She raised her head, before hesitating. “Don’t be afraid. You’ll be safe. I promise.” Her eyes were tender. 

“We trust you,” Haseul said. Her green eyes were glassy. Heejin knew she felt many of the same things she did. 

Hyejoo nodded. Then something rippled in the forest. A dark green wolf bounded up at the edge of the ledge. Had it just appeared or actually jumped? It had light green eyes. They seemed familiar. They weren’t cold. Nor was the green around it. 

The spirit then sat down at Hyejoo’s heels. It looked between them, remaining where it was. 

“He’s very different from the ones who attack,” Hyejoo said. “I don’t know how to describe it, but I can feel the differences.” She frowned. “He attacked when I was in the west as a bright one. There was a spirit with him, but that one didn’t come along. He followed me all the way over here.” 

“And he doesn’t forget?” Heejin felt strange ascribing a gender to the spirit, but Hyejoo said it naturally. Could she sense that as well? If these spirits originated from humans, then they probably had a gender. It made sense. 

She shook her head. “Some of the spirits I’ve turned will fight with me, even if the other spirit is dark. They can somehow sense the difference. They don’t attack bright spirits unless they’ve attacked me directly.” 

Heejin watched as Hyejoo crossed her arms. Along her wrists were bite marks. Something else that shouldn’t have been happening, but it had: physical harm. Hyunjin would have the same markings. 

“Does it happen often?” Hyunjin asked. “The attacks?”

A shrug. “If often is a few times every month, then yes, but time goes so slowly for me.” She looked over at the fire. “So ‘often’ becomes rare.” 

Heejin saw the edge of loneliness in her eyes. She saw a maturity that could only be born from solitude. She hated that Hyejoo had needed to grow without them. 

“The day will come soon,” Hyejoo said. “You need to get back.” 

“We’ll come again.” Haseul went over, putting a hand on her shoulder. 

“Maybe,” she smiled, “or I’ll move along.” A sigh. “If more get hurt, then more will look for the cause, which I don’t think I am,” another frown, “but I keep feeling like the dark spirits are familiar. If you look closer, you’ll feel the same thing with me. But I don’t know about the light ones.”

“You’re not the cause,” Heejin said. Her voice sounded certain to her ears. She hoped they would to Hyejoo’s. “How should you be able to cause this and solve it all in one?” She urged Hyejoo to look at her. “What you can do, it helps, it heals,” she said. “That’s very different to the spirits of corrupted darkness _and_ light.” 

Hyejoo only nodded. “I wouldn’t dismiss it.” She looked down at her hands. “I hardly know what I can do. I only know I can heal because of Vivi.” She smiled at said girl. She then gave each of them a tight hug. “So if another does get hurt, try to find me.” After she’d let go of Heejin, she sat down in front of the fire. “I hope I’ll be there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a really important chapter for me to get to. I had a lot of fun writing some of the scenes, especially the reunion. I tried to keep things balanced when it got more serious, like Sooyoung finding out that Jiwoo is a seer was countered with Hyejoo and the rest. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Would really love to know what you thought. Thank you all for the support of this story. Whenever I read your comments, it makes me so happy to see that people are invested in this story. At times I know it can be a lot, but that you're still with this story is wonderful to me. 
> 
> See you in the next chapter!


	31. What if

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so I made a bit of a small mistake with the last update. I actually uploaded chapter 35 when I was supposed to post chapter 31. This story got a bit behind with the AFF version, so I'll be catching those two stories fully now. Thank you to so much to the person who reminded me.

“I’m not going back.” Hyejoo’s eyes weren’t reflecting the flames. “You know I can’t.”

“I know why you don’t want to,” Haseul replied. It hurt to hear the lack of hope in Hyejoo’s voice. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t. Not when you can help us.”

She just shook her head, already resigned to whatever decision she’d made. 

“You’re the only one who can help,” she continued. “The healers, Jinsoul, they don’t know what else they can do. We’re gathering light and putting people in huts of earth.” 

“Yerim?” Hyejoo’s eyes both lit up and filled with a bit of dread. 

“She healed,” Haseul replied. “But she can’t use any light.”

“Neither can I,” Hyunjin said. 

Hyejoo closed her eyes. 

Haseul wasn’t sure if she was supposed to say anything. She decided not to. They weren’t leaving any time soon. Neither was Hyejoo. 

“The Astra were hunting me,” Hyejoo said slowly. “There are still people after me.” She narrowed her eyes. “Because you—they think I’m the reason why everything’s wrong.” 

“Is it Alluin?” Heejin asked. “Did he say anything about what he’d been doing? Or trying?”

A moment passed. Briefly, Haseul wondered how Hyejoo saw the man. If he’d stepped into her life after the banishment, there had to be some sort of attachment. She knew she would’ve been the same. 

“He wants to use it to his advantage,” she said. “But he never said anything where I thought he’d been the reason.” Then her brow furrowed. “But maybe the way the spirits change is different if he turns them?” She glanced at the wolf beside her. “I don’t know what’d happen if something changed here. If Ikopar’d be able to hurt you.” She looked so unsure, younger than she had this entire night. 

Haseul shook her head. “When you turned those spirits the first time,” she held her gaze, “the first thing they did was run. They didn’t fight their way out.”

“They wouldn’t have been strong enough.”

“The malevolent ones always try to fight,” Heejin said. “Just like how we’ve all seen dark spirits that don’t attack.” 

Out of the corner of her eye, Haseul saw that Vivi was looking at the fire. Vivi’s expression was thoughtful, something Haseul had seen in many fairies. She either knew something, or she was about to come to a conclusion. 

Haseul had been around enough fairies to know _not_ to interrupt that process. 

“Maybe,” Hyejoo sighed, “but who’s going to believe that at camp?” Her eyes hardened. “There was a vote to kill me, because I turned two spirits. Almost everyone wanted me gone. What if it's the same now? What if it's worse?"

The air around them seemed too cool. Haseul could see Hyejoo’s darkness ripple with the emotion in her voice. 

Hyunjin stiffened then as well, but her eyes weren’t on Hyejoo. She was looking at the space in front of her. Then she looked at Hyejoo. 

“But now we need you,” Heejin told her. “They’ll know we can’t do anything without you.” 

Hyejoo narrowed her eyes. “You’re putting a lot of faith in them.” 

“We’ve lost three people in the last month,” Haseul said. “Nuala’s not going to risk losing any more. Neither will Jinsoul.” 

The words at least reached her, because Hyejoo’s gaze softened. But she hadn’t changed her mind yet. She didn’t say anything. 

No one else did. The fire was just burning, lightly crackling. There were also the sounds of distant animals, even an owl, though it made the night more sombre than beautiful. 

Vivi spoke then, filling the silence none of them had been close to breaking, “Jungeun’s hurt and I think it’s only been getting worse. She won’t be the last person.” She leaned forward, the thoughtful look in her eyes gone, replaced with one of absolute certainty. “And if Alluin does attack us and he brings whatever spirits are his own, we’re going to lose much more than three in a month.” 

_We_. It struck Haseul then of how much change Vivi had witnessed within the Astra. She’d left once after hearing about their past, but she’d come back. She’d decided to _stay_. 

And she’d done more for them in less than a year than any of them had done in half a century. 

“It doesn’t have to mean you’re back in the camp,” she said. “I can’t tell you how many times my people used to bring witches to our home. We never trusted them, but we needed their magic. Some we let stay in the houses on the periphery. Others we had stay well outside of it, only ever coming during the day.” 

Hyejoo didn’t reply, but she was holding Vivi’s gaze. 

“You don’t have to be near them,” Vivi continued. “Just close enough that we can get you if we need your help.” 

Hyejoo nodded once. “And I’d have to be there until Alluin attacks?”

“Or until we sort something else out,” Haseul said. “You won’t have to stay for long.” Her heart hurt at her next thought, but she had to say it. “And you’re not stuck there. You can leave if you ha—want to.” 

Hyejoo stood then. For a moment, Haseul thought she’d pushed too much and that she’d leave now. 

“I’ll help Jungeun,” she said. “And the rest.” A muscle in her jaw tightened. “But if I decide I’m not staying, you’re not stopping me.” Her eyes had turned cold. 

“I won’t,” Haseul replied. 

“But,” her gaze softened, “if something would happen, I’d still let you find me.” 

______

“Thank you.”

Vivi looked beside her. She’d been getting lost in the monotony of the walk. “I didn’t do anything.” 

Haseul smiled. “That’s definitely wrong,” she winked, “you’re the reason we found her. And you,” she glanced back once, “you managed a few other things too.” 

For some reason, her face warmed at the gratitude. She looked away. 

“You were probably leaving a home with a few messes of its own,” Haseul continued. “And I know the last thing you probably wanted was to get dragged into ours.” As with everything, she looked genuinely apologetic. Everything about Haseul was genuine. 

“Actually no,” Vivi said. “I didn’t even think that’d be happening here.” She chuckled. “I thought the Astra would be simple. Sort of.” 

She laughed. A beautiful sound. “And I thought you were the cultured one.” Her eyes glittered, brightened by amusement. It was a big change from the worry that’d been lining her face in the days before. 

Vivi felt herself smile. “But even then, I didn’t do that much. Your seers would say it was destined.” 

Haseul shrugged. “But they also tell us the future is flexible. You could’ve always decided not to help and I don’t think I would’ve blamed you.” 

She raised a brow. “You can’t tell me you’d have been alright with that.” 

“I didn’t say that,” Haseul nudged her side, “I said I wouldn’t blame you, not that I wouldn’t have gotten back at you.” 

“I’m glad I told you then.” And if it was also the reason for bringing smiles to Haseul, Heejin, and Hyunjin’s face, then she was even happier for it. 

“Me too.” She nodded. “Clearly.” 

“We’re going to the town first!” Heejin called. “Hyejoo just told us about a bakery they have.” 

Haseul’s brow furrowed. “Of all days you could choose?” she asked. “Yerim and Yeojin are waiting.” 

“They’re sleeping,” Hyejoo said. “They’ve never been able to stay awake. We tried.” 

And then they were off. 

Haseul had watched them go, disbelief evident in her face. 

“Want to go with them?” 

“They’ll get more than they need.” Haseul shook her head. “We can at least walk slower now.” 

And that was when Vivi realised that they’d been left alone. They hadn’t been like that in a while. Vivi had told Haseul they didn’t need to train as much, because the elf clearly had other priorities and worries. 

Now Haseul had someone important to her back in her life. Now her hope was strengthened. 

And it showed so clearly. Vivi hadn’t realised how big the burden Haseul carried was until some of it had been lifted off of her. 

The elf’s entire expression had brightened. Her posture seemed stronger. And her eyes were shining. 

“You want to get there sooner?” Haseul asked then. 

Vivi could only shake her head. She hoped the other elf didn’t want to hurry. 

She smiled. “Great.” Her pace slowed. If Vivi wasn’t imagining it, she’d inched closer. 

They kept walking, the new pace just easy to go along with. 

Vivi liked this sort of silence. It was the one she always sought when doing her research. It was also the one she needed when things went bad. 

And now it just gave her comfort. 

“You look happier.” Haseul paused. “Or at least more comfortable.” 

Vivi’s smile grew. “I could say the same thing about you.” 

Her brow rose. “You think so?” 

She nodded. 

“Oh,” Haseul tilted her head to the side, “I guess you’re right.” 

“You guess?” 

She shrugged. “Do you always stop to think about how you are?” 

“It’s one of the first things I do,” she replied. “It’s made even better by looking at what light and dark I have.” 

Haseul grinned. “You really are incredible.” 

Vivi didn’t know what to say to that. 

Something softened in her gaze. “I don’t think you’ve been complimented enough, have you?” 

“Compliments about the person, maybe not,” she said. “But there were those about what I knew. What I found.” It still made her proud to think of the moment she’d first melted stone. She’d spent days at a time thinking about what else to do. The elders had even joined her to help that along, occasionally remarking at how incredible the discovery was. 

“So you prefer those more?” Haseul asked. 

Vivi shook her head. “As long as it’s genuine, both work, don’t they?” 

She nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.” The little smile she wore had Vivi looking away. 

She didn’t even wonder why that was. It was clear. 

But it’d been a while since she’d been around someone like Haseul. She’d grown apart from that first person. 

What would Haseul be like? Did she even see Vivi in that light? Or was this just the kindness of someone wanting to help? 

“Mind telling me what you’re thinking about?” Haseul had come a little bit closer. Their arms brushed now and then. 

“How things are now,” Vivi admitted. “How a lot has changed since I arrived, including my view of the lunar people.” 

“And?” She raised a brow. “We started as arrogant idiots.” 

“And some still are,” Vivi chuckled, “but more of you are a lot wiser than I expected.” 

Haseul laughed. It reminded Vivi of the first time she’d heard Haseul’s voice. Her ears had focused only on the sound. And she’d felt lighter just hearing it. 

“So how does it look with you staying here?” She wasn’t looking at her. She sounded slightly uncertain. 

“I already told you I was staying.” 

“But I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to go.” Haseul shrugged. “You’ll even be able to travel the world once you’re capable. There’s a few groups you may join. Jungeun has gone with them, as has Hyunjin.” Her brow furrowed. “I think Yeojin will too one day.” 

“Have you?” 

“I see enough of the world with,” she trailed off, “I wouldn’t call it work, but it’s sort of that.” She looked to the ground. “I don’t even know how to describe what we do.” 

“You’re doing the work of a leader,” Vivi said. “Maybe you don’t have the full authority, but how often have you been the lead for a discussion on how to deal with other clans?” 

She laughed softly. “You put it nicely.” She shook her head. “We organise more than we lead.” Then she puffed out one side of her cheek. “But that’s also got its own merit.” 

“But you’d stay with that instead of exploring the world without those responsibilities?” 

Haseul just nodded. 

“Really?”

“What if I told you to go to the southern-most islands, but you couldn’t ask any questions of the world there?” 

“It’d be a terrible trip.” 

Haseul gave her a knowing look. 

“You’re saying you like that?” 

“Like isn’t always true,” she corrected. “But I’ve loved parts of it and my life feels right with it.”

“With organising.” Vivi could very well see what Haseul was getting at, but she wanted to hear her say it. 

She rolled her eyes. “Doing something useful for us,” she bumped her hip against Vivi’s, “that’s what I love.” 

“Alright.” She nodded. It was amazing how the absence of a part of the burden affected the elf. Then again, if years of uncertainty and regret were lifted, something like this was definitely to be expected. 

“What?” She cocked an eyebrow at her. “There’s something else you’re not quite agreeing with.” 

“Where’s the time you take for yourself?” Vivi asked. “The time where you don’t have to do something useful for the Astra.” 

Haseul was silent. Vivi felt a bit concerned at that. Was there nothing? 

“Right now,” she said. The corner of her lip tilted upwards. “Either when I’m alone or with great company.”

Vivi nodded. Then it clicked. “Oh?”

Haseul smiled fully. “Yeah,” she glanced at the ground, “surprised?”

“A bit.”

She shook her head. “Don’t be. I,” she trailed off. 

“You?” Vivi felt a small knot form in her stomach then. It’d been a while since she’d felt nervous around someone. 

“I meant what I said about you. You know, incredible and everything.” She laughed. “With everything that’s happened, all I really know is what I’ve seen, which is great,” she put a hand to her slowly reddening face, “but I don’t think I even know you’re favourite colour.” 

Vivi couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “Green.” 

Haseul’s brow rose. “Really?” The teasing edge was back. “Mine’s blue.” She winked. “But pink isn’t all that bad.” 

______

“You’re a seer,” Gowon said. Somehow, it wasn’t a surprise. She was more annoyed that she hadn’t guessed it before. 

Jiwoo nodded, the guilt so very clear on her face. It made Gowon feel like _she_ was the one who’d been keeping a secret all her life. 

“I should’ve told you sooner, I know, but,” she hesitated, “the honest reason why I didn’t—”

“It was easier to lie,” Gowon finished. “I get it.” 

Her brow furrowed. “You get it?”

Gowon’s chest twisted, the pain strengthening. “I told everyone why I’d turned away from her. I told myself I’d made the right choice.” She forced a smile. “And it hurts to think about the truth.” She’d made the worst decision of her life. She’d been scared of the person she loved most. She’d turned her back on that person when they’d needed her. “I can barely say it.”

Another nod. Jiwoo looked worse. She’d also been grappling with that truth. 

Then it hit her. “What did you see?” Gowon remembered how shaken Jiwoo had been, but also how sure she’d been in that moment—the moment she’d told them to listen to Freya. 

“She didn’t have a path,” Jiwoo said. “All I felt was cold anger. I,” her breath hitched, “there’d just been death.” She closed her eyes. “I thought it was true. I thought we’d lose her. I didn’t want any of us to be there when it happened.” 

Gowon was sure her heart would’ve been broken further if they’d seen something like that. But she would’ve at least been at Hyejoo’s side when it happened. 

“But it never happened.”

Jiwoo shook her head. Tears seeped out of her eyes. “It’s my fault.” More tears came. “I’m sorry.”

Gowon didn’t know what to do. Seeing Jiwoo like this, now without secrets, was nothing she’d ever seen before. It hurt. 

She went over to her, wrapping her arms around Jiwoo. “It’s not all your fault.” She remembered what Jiwoo had told her after Hyejoo was gone. “I was the first person who ran,” she told her. “And the other seers saw the same thing. Even if you’d given her a chance, she’d still be gone.”

“But we’d be with her,” Jiwoo murmured. “We could’ve been the ones to help her learn.”

And not Alluin. Hyejoo might’ve never been turned to stealing or nearly forced to kill a human. She would’ve never been sent to torment and hunt the other vampires and wolves she’d gone after. 

“But we didn’t,” Gowon said. “So we have to live with what we did and didn’t do.”

Jiwoo didn’t reply. She’d stopped crying, but the light around her was threaded with shadow—the guilt of lying and being wrong. 

“I don’t blame you for that,” she continued. “And I understand why you didn’t tell us.” She squeezed once. “But if you’re deciding to be honest now, you’re gonna have to actually tell us what’s going on with you.”

Jiwoo looked up, a frown starting to form. “What do you mean?”

“You never told us what was bothering you because it was connected to your sight,” Gowon said. “Now you can.”

She looked away. Gowon knew an excuse was already building. 

“I tell you when I’m dealing with something. Sooyoung tells us when she’s got something. You should come to us too.” She rubbed her back. “We’re family.” On another day, she would’ve never said something like that. Tonight, she hoped it’d get through to Jiwoo. 

Jiwoo sighed. “I don’t think Sooyoung’ll be talking to me.” Her expression closed off again. “I’m not sure I’ll talk to her either.”

Gowon knew why. Sooyoung finding out could’ve gone two ways: she’d either try to understand the whole problem or pull away completely, hurt by the lying. 

“Did you tell her or did she figure it out?”

“She realised after Hyunjin got hurt.” Jiwoo looked to the sky then. “And I told her something else.” She took a deep breath, then paused. She looked scared of what she was going to say next. 

Gowon felt her jaw fall slack when it clicked. Jiwoo had been able to see _exactly_ what’d been wrong with her before—with Hyejoo. She’d seen the mess of black and grey that’d left Gowon. She’d seen the tatters of the bond. 

“The light bound you both.” 

Jiwoo’s expression crumpled. 

Gowon’s heart sank. It made sense. So much sense. Jiwoo had never been smooth with her excuses and lies. It hadn’t bothered Gowon as much as it had Sooyoung. She’d seen the hurt in Sooyoung’s eyes when she’d seen it. Each excuse had been a small cut, each lie a stab. One of the main things Sooyoung wanted was for Jiwoo to actually open up to her. 

And the entire time, Jiwoo had been actively working against that. She’d let it be obvious that she didn’t want to confide in Sooyoung. 

Then she’d always pushed Sooyoung to the next suitor, even if her own feelings had never been completely hidden. Even if it should’ve been obvious that Sooyoung had always felt something for her. 

“You wanted to break it?” Gowon felt at her own heart. The space was cold. She’d grown numb to the ache over the years, but that didn’t mean the pain had lessened. 

Jiwoo’s eyes widened. “Not break it.” She took Gowon’s hand. “I wanted it to change, or fade, but I never wanted to break it.”

“Why?” Even if it made sense, that didn’t mean she thought Jiwoo was right. Not if she was pushing Sooyoung away. Not if she was making an extremely important decision without Sooyoung. Not if Sooyoung didn’t even know that there was a bond in the first place. 

“She never wanted a bond,” Jiwoo said. “You know that.”

“You don’t know if knowing about it would’ve changed what she wanted.” 

She shook her head. “Not with me,” she muttered. “She wanted a say in who she loved. Never a path to that person. We started close too,” she sighed, “the bond makes all that meaningless.”

Gowon frowned. “That doesn’t make you deciding for her right. Trying to get rid of it even after you told her,” she held her gaze, “you’re still taking that decision away.”

“She won’t want it.”

Gowon wanted to scream at her that she was wrong, but the sheer defeat in Jiwoo’s face made her decide against that. She needed a different approach.

“When you told her, did she tell you she didn’t want the bond?” But even if she had, Gowon knew she wouldn’t have meant it. Not really. 

“No, but that—”

“Then you’re not doing anything until she tells you what she wants.”

Jiwoo nodded, but she didn’t look like she agreed. 

“I mean that,” Gowon told her. “Because all she’s wanted is for you to tell her what’s happening. She always wanted you to be there with her—when she goes to the Arcsa, the other Crosa, and always with the fae.” _She needs you with her_ , she added in her head. 

Jiwoo looked away. 

“You’ll be talking again. She’ll understand why you didn’t tell her.” She squeezed her hand. “But you have to let her have that time. You can’t take that away, because you think you know what’s best for her.”

Jiwoo didn’t reply, but she’d been listening. Gowon figured that was the best that could happen. For now at least. 

______

All Olivia wanted to do was enjoy the few hours she had with a reunion she’d _wanted_. Being with hyunjin and Heejin gave her that. The way they danced around their feelings was nothing new, but it was both sad and still pretty funny. 

What was new were the occasional reassuring smiles Hyunjin kept sending Heejin, even though _she’d_ been the one who’d been hurt. 

Then again, maybe it was exactly because of that. Hyunjin knew she was okay, but it hadn’t sunk in for Heejin. She still had that fear of loss. 

The next time the two snuck a glance at one another, Olivia looked away. Those moments—their feelings—were all completely between them. They were a secret kept from the other Astra, even if Heejin had never managed to actually hide her feelings. She hadn’t even been able to do that in the beginning, before she’d even realised she’d fallen in love with Hyunjin. 

“So do you always have this much money with you?” Hyunjin asked. 

“If this goes how we want it to, I’ll be moving,” Olivia replied. “I took all I have with.” She’d just left her makeshift boxes. She’d take some of the things she wanted from the camp. 

“Well if it gets me this, we’ll be going to town a lot.” She took a generous bite from her third piece of bread. 

“You’ll go as long as Jinsoul lets you.” Heejin elbowed her. 

Hyunjin wrinkled her nose, but nodded. 

Olivia smiled. “That easy to keep you in check?”

She got a half-hearted swipe at her head in return. That turned into a surprisingly tight side hug.

“You should see Jungeun,” Hyunjin whispered. “Jinsoul says one thing and she’s all wide-eyed, following every word.”

Olivia chuckled. “She was always like that.” Even when things had been difficult and Jinsoul hadn’t adored her like she did now. 

She sensed a remark coming then, but it never came. Hyunjin didn’t even start to stay it. Her eyes had just gone to the forest floor and her grip on Olivia had unconsciously tightened. 

And she could easily guess why. Teasing that would’ve been so easy a few decades ago was now something very different. 

She felt both angry and scared at the thought of finally seeing the girl whose eyes had both comforted and haunted her. A girl whose eyes were the same as a wolf spirit. 

What would happen when she saw her again? How long Olivia was with the Astra depended on that moment. She hoped the drive to attack former friends wouldn’t overcome her. 

She’d be able to stomach seeing the rest, even the elders. They’d turned on her, but they hadn’t abandoned her. Not really. 

“We can make it so you don’t have to see them,” Heejin said then. 

Olivia shook her head. A large part of her needed to see the others. She wanted them to see her too. If they’d see the person she’d become, then all the better. 

“I’ve been through worse.”

They both nodded, but neither looked comforted by the words. 

“But I’ll hold you back if I have to.” Hyunjin winked. 

Olivia nodded. “If you can catch me.”

Heejin quickly came to her there side. It’d been years since she’d been close to someone in this sense, let alone two. Normally, she’d been that close to people she’d been fighting. She’d been close enough to that mortal to terrify him. She’d been close to a vampire she’d interrogated. 

“Hyejoo.” Hyunjin was looking at her, something right in between understanding and concern in her eyes. “You probably won’t have to be there long.” 

“But often,” Hyejoo said. “The spirits’re more aggressive. And if Alluin comes during a new moon, or maybe even an eclipse, if I’m not there, I—” She couldn’t even bring herself to finish that thought. It shouldn’t have bene hard. It should’ve been easy to say. At one point, she’d _wanted_ there to be an attack. She’d _wanted_ to be a part of it. 

_Not anymore_ , she thought. _Not again_. 

Even if she hated them. 

_Most of them_ , she corrected. 

______

Jinsoul felt the moment the darkness in Jungeun surged. 

She went to her immediately, only to hear a small cry. 

Jinsoul shook her. “Wake up,” she said. 

Dark red eyes opened. Jinsoul knew she should’ve looked away, but she didn’t. 

The memory flooded her mind. She felt the blistering heat of the flames, but it didn’t burn. She watched someone collapse, their legs were burning. Their voice had been broken by the screams, now only coming out in choked shrieks. 

Then her vision cleared and silence greeted her again. She was looking to the side. A hand was on her chin. 

“I told you never to wake me up like that,” Jungeun said, the frustration clear in her voice. The darkness in her heart seemed to swell with each word. 

“How else am I supposed to know how to help?” she asked, keeping her own voice level. 

She sat up, her gaze set firmly on her lap. “You’re not supposed to be helping with this.”

“But I want to.” 

Jungeun didn’t reply. She was still looking at the ground. Even without her magic, Jinsoul could tell she was fighting tears. This dream had been especially bad. 

“Come on.” Jinsoul took her hand. Her skin felt like ice. “We’re going to the river.” 

“Are we swimming?” Her brow furrowed. 

She shook her head. “Unless you want to?” 

Jungeun wrinkled her nose. “Winter is coming.” 

Jinsoul pulled her into her arms. It still bothered her how cold Jungeun was. She gave her a bit of light. Jungeun still smelled lightly of ash, but also the tea Yerim had been giving her. Some sort of massive mixture of light, ginger, lemon, and other herbs that were supposed to speed the healing of Jungeun’s lungs up. Jungeun loved it. 

She tightened her grip on her, but she made sure not to press on anything that’d hurt. 

“Don’t give me too much,” Jungeun said, slipping her arms around Jinsoul’s waist. “I don’t need it.”

“Not true,” Jinsoul mumbled. “You’re still not better.”

Jungeun only sighed. That meant it was true. She wasn’t even trying to reassure her. Jinsoul’s chest tightened at the realisation. 

“I think you’re crushing me,” Jungeun muttered. 

Jinsoul pulled away immediately. “Did that hurt?” 

She smiled slightly. “No,” she took and squeezed her hand once, “but I don’t usually get hugs like that.”

 _Because you’ve never been this bad,_ she thought. 

Jinsoul stood up instead. She pulled Jungeun up as well. 

“I’ll see you outside,” she whispered. “Just gonna get us blankets.” 

When she came back, her arms full with the warmest blanket she could find, Jungeun was looking out at the camp, a small fire hovering right beside her head. Her eyes weren’t reflecting the flames. 

“Did you ever wonder why the bright spirits don’t come here?” she asked. “They’d actually be the safest here.” 

Jinsoul pushed down her surprise at Jungeun being curious about that kind of thing. 

“It’s not natural?” Jinsoul suggested. “They take the shape of animals. Different animals.” She shrugged. “They might have their own partners, but other than that, they don’t gather. Just like most other animals, unless they’re a pack or herd.”

“I found a group once,” she replied. “Two wolves and three sheep.” She frowned. “Not natural either.” She started walking in the direction of the river. 

“Or maybe it is,” Jinsoul said. “But in a weird way.”

Jungeun raised an eyebrow, but there was a small smile on her face. 

“They’re linked in the natural world, but one’s hunted by the other. With that group you found, they coexist, because the wolf doesn’t eat the sheep. It doesn’t have to.” 

People watched them as they walked. Jinsoul was sure they were looking at Jungeun. They’d see the sheer lack of light and wonder how she was still standing. 

“And if they’re corrupted, all of them become the hunter.” It wasn’t a question. Jungeun was focused on the ground. “Same for the dark spirits. Even if they are aggressive, they’ll usually flee if there’s too many.”

Jinsoul nudged her side. “What brought this on?”

She glanced at her once. Then she shook her head. 

Jinsoul felt a twinge of hurt, but she didn’t ask for more. 

They kept walking. Jinsoul’s chest had started to hurt again, but Jungeun wasn’t showing that she was hurt. 

“How’re you feeling?” Jinsoul asked. 

“Fine.” 

Jinsoul frowned. “Lying to me won’t help anything.” 

Jungeun didn’t reply, her eyes still on the ground. A muscle in her jaw had tightened. 

“What’s hurting the most?” She reached for her hand. She did it carefully. If Jungeun ripped her hand away, it’d hurt more. 

Thankfully, she let her take her hand. 

“My head.” She sighed. “And it’s not the lungs, but it doesn’t feel like it’s the heart either.” Her hand went to her chest. Then she gave Jinsoul a sharp look. “But don’t give me any light. I don’t need it.”

“That’s not true,” Jinsoul said. 

Jungeun glared at her. “Don’t start being stubborn.” 

“You’re telling me that?” She pulled her closer. “I’m not attacking you.” 

Jungeun deflated, her mouth set into a thin line, but the guilt was clear on her face. 

Jinsoul didn’t say anything else. The pain in her chest had increased. It felt like it was spreading too. 

But Jungeun hadn’t winced. If anything, she seemed indifferent to it. 

Then again, she had a high tolerance for pain. She often hid it too. 

The sound of the rushing river reached them. Jinsoul felt a bit of tension ease within her. 

“Sorry,” Jungeun said as they stopped. “I shouldn’t be attacking you.” She closed her eyes. Tears were forming. 

Jinsoul dropped the blanket. “It’s okay.” She tugged her closer, taking her other hand. “It’s the darkness.” 

“That’s not an excuse,” she muttered. “It’s something,” she trailed off. “I have to control it.” 

“You don’t have to.” 

Jungeun’s eyes met hers once. “Not true.” The corner of her lip tugged up. “I lost control when I didn’t have that kind of darkness.” She looked away again. 

Jinsoul made them sit down. A fire appeared above the ground, just by the edge of the river. 

“Be honest with me,” Jinsoul said, wanting to be careful with those words. “Did you spare her life because you _wanted_ her to live?” The sound of rushing water filled the air. “Or because of something else?” She didn’t want to accuse Jungeun of wanting to escape her guilt or mend her past, because that was never the case. Not actively, at least. 

Jungeun didn’t reply immediately. Her eyes weren’t distant in thought, but they were fixed on the riverbanks. 

So Jinsoul inched closer. They were far enough away from camp that no one would hear them, but close enough that few would think to look for them. They’d also be safe. Jinsoul had absorbed more light than might’ve been necessary, but she was a beacon. Most spirits wouldn’t want to attack her. 

And she’d be able to protect Jungeun if she had to. 

Jungeun glanced at her once now, before looking away. She sighed. “I think I just wanted someone to survive.” The hint of that dark look returned. 

Jinsoul took her hand. It felt like ice. She let a bit more light into her skin. 

“And she didn’t die.” Jungeun’s voice had fallen to a murmur. “If the fire had hit her wrong, she’d be dead and we wouldn’t have been having this conversation.” 

“We’d have something like it.” She moved so that she could pull Jungeun’s legs over her lap. Then she took out the blanket she’d brought with, putting it over both of them. 

Her eyebrows pinched together. “Something like it?” 

Jinsoul didn’t know how to explain it. Jungeun had always felt guilty about her actions. Jinsoul had needed to learn it over the years they’d known each other. She knew enough about her to know that the guilt wasn’t buried as much as it had been before. She was grateful for that change, but not for the fact that it hurt Jungeun so much. Even more so now. 

“We talked about Taegen,” Jinsoul replied. “We’d have talked about Hanna too.” She nudged her. “We can also talk about the other one.” The thought of both made her stomach turn. They were part of the reason Jungeun was like this now—why she could barely look Jinsoul in the eye, why she was getting lost in her thoughts, and why she winced with each breath. 

Jungeun shook her head. “I barely even noticed I killed him.” Then she looked lost. 

Jinsoul felt her heart twist. She hated seeing that look. 

She pulled her closer. “Don’t go there. You were defending yourself.” _They wanted you dead,_ she added in her head. She tightened her grip, breathing in the scent of smoke that still clung to Jungeun. 

Jungeun chuckled. “Don’t start choking me again.” 

“I need to hold you.” 

Silence fell. Jinsoul knew where they were going. They weren’t there yet, but dangerously close. They’d been here before. Often, Jinsoul had been painfully close to saying what she wanted to, _acting_ how she wanted to. 

But she couldn’t do any of that now. She needed to be there for Jungeun tonight. Everything else they could do later. 

So she just loosened her grip, but pulled Jungeun onto her lap fully. She was still cold. It didn’t feel natural. 

“’Soul.”

Jinsoul looked up. 

Dim red eyes looked down at her, warmth still there. “I’ll be okay.” The certainty in her voice made everything worse. She was comforting _Jinsoul._ She knew she didn’t think Jungeun would recover. "And if Hyejoo can help, I'll be okay even sooner."

“But—“

Jungeun lifted a hand to her cheek. “I’m staying right here.” Her gaze was tender, open. Jinsoul could see what she was feeling. She could almost feel the emotions herself. 

The ache settled into her chest again. It was a reminder. What she felt for Jungeun had long become something she couldn’t turn away from. What she wanted for them was something she’d wait for. She _had_ waited. She’d keep waiting. 

“Don’t worry so much,” Jungeun whispered. 

Those words hurt more. Jinsoul looked away. “I didn’t when I should’ve.” 

“Don’t start thinking like that.” She gently pinched her cheek. “You sent Shuhua and Yuqi with me. Without them, I would’ve—” she broke off. “You still protected me.” 

A few responses came to mind. She wanted to tell her that Jinsoul should’ve been the one with her. The ice would never have gotten that far. She could’ve taken the water away immediately. She would’ve taken the darkness for herself. She could’ve drowned both of them. She’d learned that to protect others, she’d do that for Jungeun. She wouldn’t have hesitated. 

“Jinsoul,” Jungeun murmured. “I don’t want you blaming yourself for anything that’s been happening here. Not Elre, not Hyunjin, and not me.” Her eyes were locked on Jinsoul’s. “You helped all of us in every way you could. The rest wasn’t anything you’d have known, or could’ve still done.” 

Jinsoul closed her eyes. Holding Jungeun’s gaze was hard when she looked at her like _that_. She understood then why Jungeun was always pulling away. Why it could be too much. 

The only difference was that Jinsoul wanted to close the distance instead of making it bigger. 

“I know.”

Jungeun hummed. “But you’ll still go through all the ways you could’ve done something differently.” She brushed her thumb over her cheek. “That’s your burden. You take on more than what you need, and then some.”

Jinsoul had to smile at that. “So do you.” 

“Not enough.” Lips brushed across her cheek next. A shiver ran through her then. She wished she could lean forward. 

But it wasn’t the right time. 

Jinsoul opened her eyes. Just in front of her were red eyes, glowing softly. Glowing. 

She felt a burst of warmth. The ache grew stronger. 

“You’ve got some light again,” Jinsoul whispered. 

“Yeah.” Jungeun’s voice was soft. “I think it’s because of you.” She looked at her, eyes searching. “I—” she broke off again. Guilt flickered in her face. She swallowed. 

Already, Jinsoul knew that whatever she was going to say wouldn’t come. Already, she felt what hope had risen drop. 

Then there was a sound. Jinsoul felt a source of warmth, so much like how Jungeun usually was when she was near. 

She looked to the source. 

An owl was looking over at them. It was walking along the ground over to them. It glowed red, just like Jungeun’s eyes were supposed to be. Except its eyes were blue. 

“Oh,” Jungeun said. “She’s back.” 

“She?” Jinsoul repeated. 

She shrugged. “I can tell. Somehow.” She held out a hand. “She actually likes fire, but I can’t give that to her.” She was bathed in the light from the spirit. Her eyes caught the light, sparkling ever so slightly. 

The owl had come to Jungeun’s side, inadvertently Jinsoul’s too, because she was still holding her. It felt like being near a gentle fire—like Jungeun when she was relaxed. It nuzzled its head into Jungeun’s hand, blue eyes closing. 

A small chuckle sounded then. “Reminds me of you,” Jungeun said. She was smiling. 

“Then I think I should be getting the same treatment.” Jinsoul gently leaned her head on Jungeun’s chest. 

A hand made its way through her hair, lightly scratching her scalp. 

“Is it weird that it’s got eyes like you?”

A reason for why crossed Jinsoul’s mind. She didn’t say it. “I don’t think so.” She closed her eyes. 

She felt Jungeun laugh, before coughing once. “This isn’t the most comfortable way to do this.” 

Jinsoul looked up. Jungeun’s eyes were still glowing. She was smiling brighter too. 

And the ache got even stronger. Even her arms hurt. 

Jungeun looked from the owl to her then. Her smile stayed, while her eyes became brighter. They were so close to going back to how they usually were. 

Jinsoul wanted to pull her closer. 

“She was born—well, formed during an eclipse,” Jungeun said. There was an unspoken question in her eyes. 

She had to look at the owl then. Jinsoul had been born during an eclipse. The owl had blue eyes. 

“We could call her Eclipse,” Jinsoul replied. The owl was looking at her, tilting its—her—head ever so slightly. By the look in her eyes, Jinsoul almost felt as if it recognised her. 

“We?” she repeated. 

Jinsoul winked. “She and I have a lot in common. Shouldn’t I be involved with those decisions?”

Jungeun rolled her eyes. “Eclipse works.” She patted the owl’s head. Her other hand was still idly trailing through Jinsoul’s hair, teasing out any small snags she found. “Now let’s get a little more comfortable. You can’t be sitting this whole time.” 

She could only nod. As they moved to go to a tree, Eclipse trailing behind, the colours stuck in her mind. It couldn’t be chance. 

But if that was the case, it meant something more than just being born at the same time or having similar eyes. It meant a lot more than that. 

Jinsoul wasn’t sure how Jungeun would see that. She wasn’t sure if it would pull her closer or push her even further away. She knew that she could ask Yerim about it. She knew that she’d get the answer. 

But even if Eclipse being there meant something else, even if the colours were tied together by time, she didn’t need to know. She didn’t want to know. 

She made Jungeun lean back on the tree, a second blanket making up a cushion. Sitting upright would be better for her breathing. 

And it still let Jinsoul stay close. Jungeun opened her arms immediately, letting her lean into her side. 

“I’m not glass,” Jungeun grumbled. “You can put some more weight on me.” 

Jinsoul took to resting her head on Jungeun’s shoulder. She felt the tension ease away just by the way Jungeun wrapped her arms around her. There was no sharp intake of breath and she was almost warm. 

“I missed this,” Jinsoul said. The memory of Jungeun’s limp form came to mind, surrounded by ice and burned earth. She tried to stamp it out of her thoughts, but it stayed. She remembered the pain she’d felt then. It hadn’t been anything like the ache. 

“I didn’t go anywhere,” she replied. “I—” the words stopped. 

Jinsoul didn’t look up. She just listened to Jungeun’s breathing. 

“You healed me.” Jungeun spoke slowly. “Shuhua made sure I was alive until then.” 

She saw the moment she found her again. She felt the fear and desperation. She heard Jungeun’s screams. 

“I’m _alive_.” Jungeun’s grip on her tightened. “I’m right here.” 

“You almost weren’t,” Jinsoul said it through gritted teeth. “You nearly left.”

“And I didn’t.”

“What about next time?” This time, she let herself look up. “What happens if you’re alone and someone comes after you? What happens if no one gets to you in time?” _What if I can’t save you?_

Jungeun held her gaze. Jinsoul almost expected her to look away. Except this wasn’t a moment where Jungeun would slip and avert her gaze. It was a moment where Jungeun would do whatever she could to reassure her. 

“Then I try to stay until that happens,” Jungeun said. “If I can’t, then you know what happens. If I manage that,” the corner of her lip tilted up, “then I’ll live.” 

And in that moment, Jinsoul realised something. 

Jungeun’s eyes had changed colour. Instead of red, they were the colour of unpolished silver. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Depending on how you see it, this was probably a more uneventful chapter. It's one of my favourites to write, because I get to spend a lot more time with the characters themselves. I hope that even if you prefer the chapters where a bit more happens, you still enjoyed this. 
> 
> On the one hand, Hyejoo is coming back to the Astra. On the other, Viseul are finally having a bit more alone time (which may or may not have been intentional from 2jinhye) and Jiwoo has finally told Chaewon the truth. We end with Lipsoul having a relatively important conversation, at least for the two of them. Jungeun's end of the conversation—what's haunting her—is a little bit more obvious than what's following Jinsoul, but they both have burdens they can't quite shake. They're definitely not resolved by the end of the conversation, but they've been addressed. 
> 
> Would love to know your thoughts! I've been pretty busy with uni, but this world is a wonderful change from that stress. One of my biggest hopes is that when you read this story, you get a bit of a change from the world too. 
> 
> See you in the next chapter! 


	32. It hurts

Something twisted in Jinsoul’s chest. It was cold, like a knife of ice. 

Jungeun’s eyes weren’t red. Why weren’t they red? 

The feeling got stronger. The knife had grown heavier. 

“Jinsoul?” Jungeun’s expression had melted into concern. “What is it?” 

Jinsoul tried to speak. Then the pain surged. 

The fire vanished. 

Jungeun was pulling her up in the next moment. Jinsoul wanted to tell her not to exert herself. She’d hurt herself. 

“Let’s go back.” Her arm went around Jinsoul’s waist, supporting her. “Drink something.” She held up a waterskin. 

She shook her head. “T-that’s for you.” She searched Jungeun’s eyes for a sign of something. “Does anything hurt now?” 

“I think it’s you who’s hurting,” Jungeun replied. “Did something happen?” She looked at her, worried now. 

Another stab. 

Jinsoul gasped. 

Jungeun tightened her grip. Her steps quickened. “Where does it hurt?” 

“My eye,” she got out. “My chest.” Her heart most of all. 

“Did you get attacked?” Jungeun asked. “I can’t see anything from the light.” 

Just then the trees began to move in one direction. 

Seconds later, Yerim appeared. Her eyes were wide. She knew something was happening. 

“What’s happening?” She looked between them, her gaze lingering on Jungeun. She looked scared. 

“Jinsoul’s hurt,” Jungeun said, still walking. “I don’t know why.”

“Jinsoul,” Yerim repeated. She looked at her, then the space in front of her. “I don’t—“

“Help me,” Jungeun told her. “We’ll figure it out on the way or there.” She hadn’t snapped. This was just the voice she used when things were hard. 

The darkness would’ve made her snap otherwise. Or was she holding back because of Yerim? Or just not as affected? 

Yerim was at Jinsoul’s other side. 

“Why did you come?” Jinsoul asked. The pain had eased ever so slightly. She could speak again. 

“I,” she began. Then she was quiet for a few seconds. “When did the pain start?” 

“An hour ago?” Jinsoul thought of when she’d worked her up. “Maybe less.”

“And you didn’t say anything?” Jungeun glanced at her. “What’s this about me having to tell you when—“ She hissed. 

Jinsoul felt herself being dragged down in the next moment. 

The pain in her chest faded. 

She caught Jungeun before she could reach the ground. If she’d been cold before, she felt like ice now. 

“Oh no.” Yerim had come to her other side. “ _No_.” She reached for Jungeun’s hand. Then she gasped. 

Jinsoul watched as thin tendrils of darkness crawled up her hands. 

Jungeun ripped her hand away. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” she said, voice strained. Her silver eyes were locked on Jinsoul’s hands. “Don’t do that.” 

Jinsoul didn’t even have to question if she was lying about being alright. If Jungeun was feeling the same pain Jinsoul had, then she was close to agony. 

“We have to get back,” Yerim pulled her up, “now.” There was both calm and terror in her eyes. What was she seeing? What was happening? 

Jungeun’s head tilted up. Her eyes were grey. 

Jinsoul felt cold. This was the second stage of the darkness. 

As they kept going, Jungeun grew heavier. Jinsoul focused on the darkness in her and tried to pull on it. It didn’t come to her at all. 

“Jungeun?” Yerim called. She flinched at one point. 

No response. 

Jinsoul shook her. 

“Huh?” Jungeun groaned. “Now it hurts.” 

Yerim looked above Jungeun to Jinsoul. There was something about the look she gave her that made Jinsoul’s throat tighten.

“Did you tell anyone you were coming here?” Jinsoul asked. 

“Eline and Jiwoo.”

But they weren’t here yet. 

Jinsoul slipped her arms beneath Jungeun’s legs and back, before picking her up.

“I can walk.” She shifted around. Her eyes were a dark grey. Her skin was the colour of bone. Her hair was pure white. 

Jinsoul started running. She gave Jungeun more light as she did. 

“That’s,” Jungeun began, “not helping.” 

“It will,” Jinsoul told her. She gave more. She felt the darkness recoil. Then it snapped to her. Jinsoul felt it creep up her arms. 

“Stop!” Jungeun’s body twisted. She fell from Jinsoul’s arms, landing on the ground. “Don’t do that again.” She pushed herself up. 

Then the pain returned, embedding itself in Jinsoul’s heart. 

Jungeun’s heart. 

Jungeun fell back to the ground, hissing in pain. She rolled around. She was blinking, her eyes searching the space above her. 

Jinsoul scrambled to her side. 

“Soul,” she gasped. “I don’t—“ 

“Don’t move.” Jinsoul pressed a hand to Jungeun’s chest and forced the light in. She drove it into the darkness there. 

Her fingers went numb as shadows coated her fingers. 

“Stop.” Jungeun’s eyes had turned black. She tried to push her hand away. 

Jinsoul felt panic try to take hold. She stamped it down. “Come on.” She tried to get Jungeun to her feet. “We need to get to Nuala.” She picked her up again. 

“Don’t take the darkness,” Jungeun muttered. “Don’t give me any light.” 

She didn’t reply, but she didn’t try anything else. 

“Yerim,” Jungeun called. “Be honest with me.” She swallowed, her eyes were looking up at Jinsoul. She looked calm, reassuring. 

Jinsoul couldn’t bring herself to look away. If Jungeun was scared and hiding it, then she couldn’t look away. 

“Do I still have a path?” 

There was no reply. 

Jungeun turned her head. “It could still change.” She looked back to Jinsoul. “Hyejoo could still come.”

 _And if she doesn’t?_ Jinsoul thought. _What if she‘s too late?_

Jungeun winced now and again. 

Jinsoul felt the pain start to come back. 

“It’s getting better,” Jungeun muttered. 

“Good.” Jinsoul ran faster when she saw the fires of the camp. 

She went straight for the healing tent. 

“It’s getting worse,” she told Nuala, lowering Jungeun onto the bed. 

The healer looked at her for a second, before she nodded. Then she held out a hand. A large piece of moonlight appeared. 

“I’ll bring everything I can.” Then she left. 

“See?” Jungeun smiled lightly, but it was pained. “That’ll buy some time.” 

Jinsoul felt cold. Jungeun knew they wouldn’t be able to heal her with light. She knew she’d be lost if they didn’t heal her soon. 

Jinsoul put the light on the centre of Jungeun’s chest. She pushed it to be absorbed. It didn’t work. 

“Stop,” Jungeun said. “You’re not helping.” She moved away. 

The words hurt more than Jinsoul expected them too.

“There’s nothing else I can do,” Jinsoul told her. “This’s the only thing that _could_ help you.” 

Yerim was beside her then. “Can I do anything?” She looked up at her with tearful purple eyes. She knew better than Jinsoul what might happen. And that was so much worse. 

“Get me everything we have for the pain,” she told her. Then she took her hand. “I’ll do everything I can until she gets here.” Because Hyejoo _was_ coming here. She had to. Yerim nodded once. “So will I.” Then she left. 

Jungeun was staring at the roof of the tent. She was crying. 

“Is the pain worse?” 

“Yes.” The response was sharp. Then she sat up, wincing as she did. “I can’t be in here.” 

Jinsoul made to push her back. “Why?” 

Jungeun looked at her hands once, before pushing herself off the bed. She swayed once, but stayed standing. “I can’t be in here if it gets worse.” She pushed past her. 

The pain spiked again. Jinsoul couldn’t stop the cry of pain. 

And immediately, Jungeun was there again. The look in her eyes was harsher, but there was still concern there. 

“Are you doing that?” Jungeun asked. “Are you taking that pain away from me?” 

“I didn’t do anything.” 

A moment passed. Jungeun was frowning at her. Then she groaned, her knees buckling. 

Whatever pain Jinsoul had felt went away. 

She caught Jungeun before she fell. 

“Jungeun,” Jinsoul pulled her to her feet, “you shouldn’t be moving.” She tried to move her back to the bed. 

Jungeun shoved her away. “You don’t even know what’s happening!” Her dark eyes were filled with anger, but also fear. “I’m supposed to be dead by now.” 

Jinsoul flinched. 

Something softened in Jungeun’s gaze, but it was undercut by the tension in her jaw. Her hands were in tight fists. 

“Nothing we do will get rid of this,” she said. “Don’t start giving me what you can’t afford to lose.” She held Jinsoul’s gaze. “And don’t take anything either.”

Jinsoul wanted to tell her she was wrong, but she knew it’d fall on deaf ears. The darkness was making every fear of Jungeun’s stronger. That included being afraid that they’d hurt themselves trying to help her. 

Then Jinsoul felt something else. It wasn’t pain, but it felt even worse than that. 

Jungeun let out a long, but quiet, cry. She stumbled towards the bed, barely managing to sit down. 

“What is it?” Jinsoul went to her side. The air around her was freezing. 

She blinked several times, but her eyes didn’t focus on anything. 

“I can’t see,” she murmured. “Jinsoul?” Jungeun’s hand reached up. 

She took it. “Here.” The feeling she had became more defined. It was starting to hurt. 

“This isn’t your fault.” Jungeun’s voice was barely a whisper. 

Jinsoul felt Jungeun’s hand go slack. She watched her eyes rolled into the back of her head. 

She became aware of the piece of herself that was Jungeun. She felt how it started to disappear. 

And Jinsoul screamed. 

______

The air rippled. The message appeared, hurried. 

_Jungeun’s worse. I think she’s dying. We need Hyejoo._

All lightness that had been in the air then vanished. 

Haseul made for the direction the others had went. 

“But she was alright when we left.” Vivi was keeping in step with her. 

“It can happen quickly,” Haseul replied. She started running. She didn’t tell her that it was a miracle Jungeun was still alive. Few had questioned it. Not really. 

Because Jungeun was Jungeun. She’d come back from every single fight, even if she’d gotten wounded. Whatever the case, a week later—sometimes less—she was on her feet again, ready for whatever came next. For years, she’d always ‘been through worse’. And in those years, people had come to think of her as indestructible. Haseul wondered if she’d been guilty of that too.

______

The camp was bright. Too bright. Olivia could feel the light around her as if the sun was shining on her in all directions. 

People were waiting for her. The seers had known exactly that she was coming. 

She ignored them all. 

“Hyejoo!” someone called. Yeojin. Olivia could feel the fear emanating from her. It was seeping out from a lot of the people there. All directed at one person. Felt _for_ one person. 

She went straight in that direction. 

“Jinsoul and Yerim have been giving her as much light as they can, but,” Yeojin faltered. “She started screaming for them to stop.” 

“Did it hurt her?” Hyunjin asked. 

“I don’t think so.” Her brow was furrowed. “I heard her tell them to let her die.” 

The darkness was the reason for that. Olivia hoped the two knew that. Or at least realised it once Jungeun was okay again. 

She hoped Jungeun would recover. 

Behind her, she heard some start to talk amongst themselves. 

“Should we really be letting her near?” 

“Did anything about her path change?” 

“What if it just gets worse?”

A voice cut through them. “She is our only chance.” It was Freya. “Everything else will be settled later.”

Olivia was more than surprised to hear her voice. It also unnerved her, reminding her of being surrounded by Astra, left as an offering to two spirits. 

She pushed the thought from her mind. 

Then she saw Yerim pushing through the people. Olivia didn’t need to see the darkness to know she was terrified. 

“It’s getting worse,” she said, the words falling over themselves. “We don’t know what to do a-and,” several tears fell from her eyes, “I can’t see anything.” 

Olivia didn’t know what that meant. She didn’t stop to ask. 

She’d never seen Yerim like this. This was exactly why Olivia had come here. Whatever normal magic couldn’t heal, she’d be able to. 

“Come on.” Olivia squeezed her arm and quickened her pace. She didn’t tell her that Jungeun would be okay. 

And she knew it was right _not_ to say anything once she saw Jungeun. 

When she entered the tent, the girl on the bed looked more like a corpse than a person. The moment of shock passed too slowly. The feelings of horror and disbelief clawed at Olivia’s throat. 

Then she heard the faintest breath. A part of her caved in on itself. The rest soared with relief. 

Jungeun was paler than bone. Every line and shadow on her face was more pronounced. 

She was brimming with darkness. She should’ve been dead hours ago. Maybe even days ago. 

She saw Jinsoul next. Her hands were shaking. Olivia had seen her scared for Jungeun and Yerim, she’d seen her grieving over the people she hadn’t been able to save. 

But what she saw was helplessness and fear. This was something Jinsoul didn’t know how to solve. Something she knew she herself couldn’t fix. Olivia wanted to take away that sense of powerlessness. 

When she saw Jinsoul put her hand above Jungeun’s heart, her skin glowing and eye glowing white, Olivia knew how Jungeun had survived this long. 

She saw some of the darkness shift to Jinsoul. She’d have to take that later. 

“I can take what she has now,” Olivia said. “But we have to get even more light than what you can give.” And from what she saw, Jinsoul didn’t have much. 

“Why?” Jinsoul was already standing. The weakness in her eyes had faded. She was focused now, only thinking about healing Jungeun—not keeping her in their lives. In Jinsoul’s mind, it seemed there was a difference. 

At least it lessened whatever panic Jinsoul was feeling. 

“Almost every bit of light she has isn’t hers,” Olivia told her. She couldn’t risk taking away the darkness only for Jungeun to still fade away. She barely even knew what happened when an Astran died of too much darkness. She’d never seen what happened when someone had to little light. She never wanted to either. 

Jinsoul was gone in the next moment. As were the rest of the girls. 

That left Olivia with Jungeun. Her heart had been engulfed by the darkness. Most people who’d gone that far had been completely overcome. Any more and they’d either died or gone mad. 

Olivia took the darkness from Jungeun’s heart first. She recognised some of her own there too. How it’d gotten there, she had no idea. 

“You better come back,” she muttered. “If you go without telling Jinsoul _everything_ , because I know you haven’t,” she faltered. She couldn’t even finish a threat, no matter how empty it was. 

As she eased the darkness from Jungeun, what little light there was shifted. Olivia had to hold back the rest of the darkness that wanted to fill the empty space. 

That let the light wrap around Jungeun’s heart, but nothing else happened. There was no return of colour or an ease in her breathing—not even a slight change. Jungeun still lay there, motionless. 

So Olivia took more, fully aware that the darkness was also latching onto her mind. She knew it would make her more likely to attack certain people in the camp. _After_ she was finished here. 

“More will come,” Jinsoul appeared, “but I think we’ll have enough.” She was glowing, full of light again. Her hand went to Jungeun’s, but she paused. “Can I?” she asked. “Or not yet?” 

How Jinsoul could still be patient, Olivia didn’t know. 

“Wait,” Olivia peeled the darkness from Jungeun’s arm, “now.” She felt the cold weight of rage settle over her. She shoved it down. 

She felt Jinsoul’s light as a small prick to her head. 

Yeirm, Heejin, Hyunjin and Haseul were there. Then Vivi and Yeojin came, each with their own new surges of light. Surprisingly, Shuhua and Yuqi came at one point. Olivia remembered them being intimidated by Jungeun in the past. 

It went on for what felt like hours. Few said anything, but all of them gave Jungeun light as Olivia took away darkness. 

“She’s certainly more stable than she was.” Nuala was beside her now. “Are you sure you’re not taking too much?” 

“Astrans can’t exactly have too much light,” Olivia threw back, knowing full well that her voice was too harsh. “This isn’t a lot.” It was maybe borderline, but she didn’t know. She didn’t care either. “Give her more light.”

There still hadn’t been a big change. Jungeun’s skin was slightly warmer, but still without any colour. As they continued, Olivia wasn’t finding the hope that this would work. 

It didn’t seem as if Jinsoul did either. Her hand gripped Jungeun’s, pulsing with light. 

“It still hurts,” Jinsoul said softly. She had so little light now. Both her eyes were blue again. 

“What does?” Yerim was at her side, holding her other hand. Somehow, she wasn’t able to use the light she had, but Jinsoul was able to take it. 

The rest had gone again. Nuala had gathered more light and was gradually giving it to Jungeun as well. 

Olivia’s skin was starting to feel warm in the presence of so much moonlight. It was uncomfortable. 

“My eye,” Jinsoul whispered. “And my chest.” She closed her eyes, before they snapped open, fixing onto Jungeun’s face. It was as if she didn’t want to lose sight of her. “It hurt when she was attacked. When I knew she was dying.” 

That answered Olivia’s question. She hated the answer. The reason for Maven and Hanna’s presence hadn’t been her, but Jungeun. 

“You knew beforehand?” Nuala’s gaze lifted, now on Jinsoul. She looked thoughtful. Then she looked pained. 

“And before it got her now,” Jinsoul said, her eyes only on Jungeun. “What does it mean if it still hurts?” She looked helpless again. “Does that mean she’s still here? Or,” she winced, “is she just fighting to stay alive?”

“I don’t know.” A silence. “But you have to do this,” she gave her a bright piece of moonlight, “it’ll work better than when any of us give it to her.”

Jinsoul’s brow furrowed, but she started to transfer the light anyway. “Why me?” She looked so lost. 

Olivia caught Yerim’s eye. Then she saw her look to Nuala. Yerim shook her head ever so slightly. When she looked back to Olivia, she mouthed, “later”. 

Then she looked back to JInsoul and at the space right in front of her. Or was she looking at Jungeun?

Then she realised it. A bond. How had that even happened? They hadn’t been born with the moon shining down on them. That’d come later, even being a surprise to all seers. 

Had the bond formed then too? 

Olivia felt all her anger vanish. Now there was only fear. 

She needed Jungeun to be alright. Jinsoul needed her to stay with them. They all did. 

Pulling on the darkness that was within Jungeun’s mind, Olivia felt the cold strengthen. 

Her arms had been painted with shadow. Anyone who would look at her now would be terrified. She doubted she’d be able to blame them. 

“Here’s all we have,” a terribly familiar voice said. The person’s breath hitched. “We’ll bring more soon.” 

The tent filled with a glow, it’s edges lined with peach-coloured light, as well as pale green and dark red. 

She heard Chuu leave soon after. 

“We’ll need it all,” Olivia said. “And more.” She was sensing something else within Jungeun, something very familiar. She didn’t know what they meant, but they felt like holes. It was as though the darkness had left shadows. They needed to be drowned out. 

She winced as Jinsoul began to glow brighter. Olivia closed her eyes, but her skin still burned. Her head ached too. It wasn’t the darkness, but being around so much darkness. 

“That’s enough,” Nuala said sharply. “You’ve done all that you can. This’s so much less than what she had in the beginning.” Her voice had softened. “We can only wait.”

Olivia opened her eyes. Jinsoul had stopped glowing. She watched as the elf’s eyes rolled into the back of her head. 

Yerim caught her in the next instant. 

“I’ll keep an eye on them,” Nuala told Olivia. She looked at Jungeun, the frown on her face easing. “The light is at least staying with her.” When her gaze went to Jinsoul, there was an unusual worry there. “It hadn’t been until you came.” When she met Olivia’s eyes, it might’ve been the kindest the elder healer had ever looked. “Thank you,” she said. “But you need to go rest.”

“She’s right,” Yerim said quietly. She was putting Jinsoul onto a bed beside Jungeun. Then she pushed them together. 

Both elves looked so different than the last time she’d seen them. Both looked run down—drained. It scared her. 

Jinsoul had so much good in her. She’d do everything she could to heal anyone, even before the moon had chosen her. Olivia was afraid she’d given too much this time. 

Jungeun was one of the strongest fighters she’d ever known. She’d had so much happen in her life and had been able to move on from it. And they’d nearly killed her this time. 

All because of Alluin. He wanted the Astra gone. Jungeun might’ve been one of the costs of that. 

“They still have to decide if I’m staying or not,” Olivia said, her own voice sounding distant to her. 

Nuala nodded. “I’ll speak for you.” A pause. “This time.” She wasn’t meeting Olivia’s gaze. 

“They’ll let you stay.” Yerim squeezed her shoulder. “But after that you have to rest.”

“I have to make sure that—” 

She cut her off. “You did everything you could.” She pulled Olivia to her feet. “And she’ll survive,” she whispered. There was no waver in her voice. 

Olivia let herself be led outside. “How’d you know that?” 

Yerim didn’t say anything. Tears still clung to her eyes. “I’ll tell you later,” she said. “Promise.” She looked around, checking to see if anyone was listening. There were. And from what she could tell, they were already discussing.

Then Yerim pulled Olivia into her arms. Olivia felt a slow wave of familiarity, almost like when she saw a dark spirit. That feeling was quickly overshadowed by how happy she was to be around Yerim again. She almost hoped the Astra would let her stay. 

“Thank you, Hye,” she muttered. “We almost lost them both.” 

Olivia felt a pang of shame. How could she have even considered _not_ coming back to help? What if she’d stayed and Jungeun had died? 

“Tell me if something happens,” Olivia said when they pulled away. “I don’t care if you end up waking me.” She needed to see with her own eyes that Jungeun was okay.

“I will,” she nodded, “but I’ll be there with you now.” 

Olivia shook her head. “You can stay with them.” 

“No,” Yerim said. “I didn’t defend you that time. I’m going to today.” She started walking to the gathering before Olivia could protest. 

Eyes followed them. Olivia met each gaze, enjoying how each person looked away. But even then, nothing helped the unease building within her. 

Being surrounded by Astrans made everything worse. She remembered her skin burning. She remembered being attacked by spirits that’d been gentle all her life. She remembered people voting on whether or not to kill her. 

Even though she wished she could, she didn’t dare move closer to Yerim. 

When she concentrated, she could sense that there were a fair amount of people who’d gotten attacked by spirits. Most of the darkness had gone away naturally, but some of it still clung to them. That meant they hadn’t gotten themselves healed yet. 

Had it been to make sure that Jungeun would get all the light? Or had Nuala just refused to heal anyone else? 

Freya was in the centre of it all, but Heejin was also there. Hyunjin was a few metres away. She sent Olivia a soft smile when she saw her. 

“Hyunjin is standing because of Hyejoo,” Heejin was saying. The shadow of anger was there, but it wasn’t growing. “And now she might have just saved Jungeun’s life. What more do we have to say?” 

“She was deemed a danger when the darkness came,” Yuol said. “How can we be sure that she won’t be one now?”

“It was our anger and frustration that brought the bright spirits here,” Haseul replied. “So far, we’ve been a greater danger than she could ever be.” 

“But how do we know she’s not in line with Alluin anymore?” It was Teveril. 

Olivia resisted the urge to take his shadow. _He_ hadn’t stopped being an ass. 

“The mortal who was killed had been the victim of someone else,” Haseul said. 

“And that same person attacked Hyejoo,” Yerim added. “Alluin needs as many people as he can get. Why would he let that happen?” 

Several murmurs followed. Some of them in agreement. 

“How many of you actually saw what happened?” Hyunjin was talking, a challenge in her eyes. Since when had Hyunjin said something in gatherings like this? “I saw it. They were burned by sparks and the darkness wasn’t the same as Hyejoo’s. You all remember what I had, and how different that was to hers.”

“But the two who came for Jungeun,” another began, “how did they know where we were?” 

Olivia couldn’t believe her ears. 

“You know exactly that they can use witches to find us,” Haseul said, a sharp edge to her words. 

“But has she _helped_ Jungeun?” Teveril asked. “Do we know this?” 

Olivia felt the anger surge in many. That was also a surprise. 

“Yes we do.” There was that voice again, one that pushed Olivia very close to lashing out. Chuu. “Or,” she faltered, “I do.” 

Beside her, Yerim had straightened. Her eyes were wide. 

“Her path had disappeared,” Chuu said. “And it’s back.” She turned to Kolina then. “Am I right?”

Several things became very clear then. Chuu could see paths. She could see the future. 

_She’ll survive_. 

Yerim could do the same. And she’d known about Chuu. 

“How do you know that?” Kolina asked. 

Chuu didn’t answer. 

“She’s right.” Eline’s eyes were distant. Olivia hadn’t seen her arrive. “Her path has returned. Jinsoul’s is brighter again.”

She didn’t like what that meant. Why had it been darker before? Would there have been something that happened with the bond between Jinsoul and Jungeun? Would Jungeun’s death have literally taken something away from Jinsoul? Olivia hoped she never needed to find out. 

Then movement caught her eye. A brief sense of warmth followed, something she hadn’t felt in a long time. 

Then she saw her. And her heart broke. 

Rage followed, but Olivia forced it down. 

Gowon looked terrible. Her hair had once been golden. Now it was grey. Her skin had even become a sickly colour, that around her eyes deeply shadowed. She barely looked better than Jungeun had. 

As Gowon drew closer, Olivia properly saw her eyes. They’d once been a pale, bright green. Now they’d dimmed, as though muddied. What hurt more was how empty her expression was. 

She had light. She hadn’t been attacked recently, but the light she did have was either tinged yellow or shadowed with grey. Had no one tried to find the reason? Had no one seen this and tried to find a solution to it? 

Gowon hadn’t lifted her gaze from the ground. Could she not even look Olivia in the eyes? 

_Good_ , she thought. It was better if she was ashamed of what she’d done. 

But was it really something to celebrate if Gowon hadn’t met _anyone’s_ eyes yet? Even when things were serious, she’d always been prepared to reassure others in small ways, either through a tiny smile or a warm gaze—or she’d convey just how much she agreed (or didn’t) with what was happening. 

Olivia tore her eyes way. Of all the things she was supposed to feel—to think—it shouldn’t have been about Gowon’s health or how she’d changed. She shouldn’t have even cared in the first place. She should’ve been screaming at her, barely containing the urge to hurt Gowon just as much as she’d hurt Olivia. 

“But we don’t know what else might happen,” Kolina said. Of course, in a conversation with seers, _she’d_ have to give her input. 

“Neither do I,” Olivia said. Her first words to these people since they’d banished her. 

She could see their surprise, a lot of it probably because of her voice. 

“You once considered executing me,” she continued. “You knew what my weakness was before I did.” She resisted the urge to look at the scars she still had. 

Some looked away. 

An unlikely person held her gaze. Freya. The one who’d cause most of her scars. Olivia’s unease heightened, but she didn’t look away. 

“You letting me be here isn’t a risk for you as much as it is for me.” 

The elder nodded once. Golden eyes that’d once been unfeeling and cold were now tired. There was also sadness there. 

Olivia dismissed that. “I’ll heal the rest of the wounded,” she said. “And leave to where you can find me again. If anything more happens.” 

An extended silence followed. 

“Then she stays,” Freya said. “We need her to heal the wounded just as much as we need the light.” 

Olivia looked to the elder. She wondered if she should say anything. 

She decided against it. Even if she was the actual reason why Olivia could stay, that didn’t mean she needed to speak to her. It definitely didn’t mean she’d see the elder as someone deserving of respect. 

So Olivia turned away, towards the forest. She pushed past the elders and towards the end of the gathering. She smiled at how Teveril and Kolina moved away, a bit of fear sparking in their hearts. 

Once again, the fear Olivia inspired would be useful. She was safer if people were afraid. 

There was a sharp gasp then. She felt a sharp twinge in her heart, but nothing more. 

Olivia glanced back. She saw Gowon shove someone away. They nearly fell to the ground. A rush of anger had surrounded Gowon’s heart. It was joined by something else, something close to desperation. 

“It’s nothing,” Gowon hissed. Olivia had never heard her sound like that. 

The person straightened, hurt apparent on their face. It was Sooyoung—Yves. 

Olivia’s hands formed fists. Unlike Gowon, unlike Jungeun, Yves didn’t look any different. She barely looked tired. 

Then a warm hand took her arm. It was Vivi. With her were Hyunjin, Heejin, Haseul, and Yeojin. Yerim had gone back to Jungeun and Jinsoul. 

“I made a cave near the river. You can go straight there or eat here.” The ground rippled as stone rose from it. It formed a plate, one without any light whatsoever. 

Olivia felt something in her warm. It hadn’t been that long since she’d been in camp, but it still felt foreign that there were people willing to help _her_. 

The others with her looked hopeful. 

“I’ll go to the river,” Olivia said. “There’s a lot of light here.” It was both an excuse and the truth. Her skin felt almost raw from all the light around her. Her head was also sore. 

Their faces fell. 

“Okay.” Vivi let go of her, but she didn’t look disappointed. “Want me to come with you or can you find it yourself?”

_Do you want to be alone?_

Olivia remembered then that Vivi had only recently come to the Astra. She understood this better than any of the rest probably did. 

“I’ll find it,” she accepted the plate Vivi had made, “thanks.” She hoped Vivi saw how much she meant it. 

The girl nodded. 

Olivia turned away from her old friends and left the camp. She should’ve probably stayed with them. She hadn’t been the only one missing her friends. 

But her place wasn’t by a fire pit anymore. The light they all had hurt her. 

She also didn’t want to see the Astra more than she needed to. Many had changed, yes, some even for the better, but that wasn’t enough. Olivia had changed as well—not for the better. 

And she didn’t want her old friends to see that. 

______

Jungeun dreamed of her mother. She saw her as she used to be: smiling and laughing, eyes always holding a knowing look. 

Then she crumpled to the ground, her body broken by magic. Her killers had wanted to exact revenge over something she’d done years ago. She’d never done anything as bad as Jungeun had, but they’d gone for her mother. Not Jungeun. 

She hadn’t screamed then, nor had she shed any tears. She’d just followed that magic. She’d followed the shadow of the murder. 

The memory vanished. Another took its place. 

Jungeun had found the ones responsible. Their faces were perfectly clear in her mind. One was young, his eyes full of an eagerness spurred by the naive love for battle. 

She’d gone for him first, letting the flames engulf his legs, a coil of them tight enough to hold him in place. 

As he’d screamed, she’d moved on to the next one. That elf had been running to the first’s aid. 

Another had thrown a spear her way. The flames around Jungeun had melted off the tip. She’d batted the rest of the spear away. 

She’d wrapped her hands around the next woman’s throat. She’d felt how the skin had charred below her touch. She still saw the terror and agony in her eyes. 

The violence went on. Jungeun watched as she murdered her mother’s killers. She felt the distant satisfaction of each scream, each flash of terror once they realised what their actions had brought. 

But to see it again, separate from the rage, Jungeun was horrified. She’d lived through this memory countless times. She’d seen the flames rip into those people. She’d heard them cry out to one another. She’d felt how every sound and passing second had fed into her rage. 

The moment that haunted her most was after everything had fallen silent. 

Jungeun remembered how the flames had died the moment the last person stopped screaming. 

The silence had scared her. None of the elves had scared her, not even the strength of their magic or the fact that she’d been outnumbered. There hadn’t been a moment where she’d thought to worry for her life. She’d only wanted them dead. She hadn’t let any of them run away. 

But in that moment, there’d been nothing. She’d heard nothing. 

She’d been bleeding too, but she hadn’t been able to feel the pain. She’d only been left with her anger. 

And ten corpses, their skin either blackened, red or ash grey. Some of their eyes were still open. 

She’d felt cold. Freezing. 

And then she’d screamed. It’d torn through her throat, shattering the silence. 

Her legs gave out and the burned ground gave way beneath her. 

______

Jinsoul woke to emptiness. She didn’t know how she knew what that felt like. It was a strong sense of cold. She couldn’t feel any darkness there, nor any light. It just ached. 

But her chest didn’t hurt anymore. Neither did her eye. Only her head. 

She opened her eyes and was immediately greeted by the bright roof of the tent. 

She turned her head away, but forced her eyes open. She saw rows of other beds, all those there were sleeping. 

Just beside her was Yerim, her eyes trained on the ground. She looked up in that moment. Relief flooded her features. 

“Careful,” she whispered. “You shouldn’t be moving.”

Already, Jinsoul could sense the tears building in Yerim’s eyes. 

“I’m okay,” Jinsoul told her. Her voice was scratchy. “Just sore.” 

Yerim nodded. “Her path’s brighter.” 

Jinsoul turned around. Her head throbbed as she did. Her vision turned black for a second. 

When it cleared, she saw Jungeun beside her. 

Jinsoul held back a sob. 

The colour had returned to her face. She was breathing properly. 

Jinsoul lifted her hand, slowly to avoid another wave of dizziness. She let her thumb brush across Jungeun’s cheek. Her skin was warm. _Warm._

“She hasn’t woken up yet?” Jinsoul felt like she was in a dream. She hoped desperately that it wasn’t. 

“No,” Yerim said. “She made a sound a while ago, but that was it.”

Jinsoul nodded. “We’ll just have to wait then.” If she could see Jungeun open her eyes, if they were red again, she could wait. 

She just needed her to be alright. She needed Jungeun to feel like herself again. She needed her to not be in pain anymore. 

“Hungry?” Yerim’s tone was careful. 

Jinsoul looked back at her and smiled. “Yep. I think you are too.” 

It got her a tiny smile. “I’ll be right back.” 

She watched her go and a lump formed in her throat. Yerim had been dealing with so much already. She still hadn’t fully told them about the fight with the bright spirit, or when she’d seen the site of that mortal’s death. They hadn’t even had a proper conversation about Yerim being a seer. 

And Jinsoul hadn’t been there for her this time either. Hyejoo had been coming back into their lives, while Jungeun had almost left them. 

They’d said they’d be a proper team again, but they were far from it. For reasons out of their control, maybe, but Jinsoul hadn’t been there enough. She needed to do more. 

Maybe that was why Yerim had confided more in Jungeun. Even though she’d had little time, Jungeun had always made time for anyone who needed her. Jinsoul had let herself be dragged away, not stopping to think about the time she was missing. 

Then she heard a low whine. 

Her chest tightened at the sound. She moved closer to Jungeun, already feeling a small surge of dizziness. 

“It’s okay,” Jinsoul whispered. 

Jungeun’s brow furrowed. Another cry came, but muffled. She was stuck in a nightmare. 

“Jungeun,” she shook her head, “you’re just dreaming.” She could feel whispers of what Jungeun was feeling. A lot of it was pain. The rest was anger. 

Jinsoul tried again. She knew what it was. Not a nightmare, but a memory. 

The curtains of the tent parted. 

“Waking draught?” Jinsoul asked. 

Immediately, Yerim put down the food and moved away. She always acted immediately. Jinsoul felt a flutter of pride. 

Jinsoul gently placed a hand beneath Jungeun’s head. “It’s just a dream,” she whispered. “It’s not real.” _Not anymore_ , she thought. 

Another sound. A whimper. 

“You’re safe,” she told her. Yerim gave her an open vial. She tilted Jungeun’s mouth open. She couldn’t risk trying to use her magic. She didn’t even know it would work. 

She poured in the draught and closed Jungeun’s mouth, as well as her mouth, forcing her to swallow. 

Yerim was on the other side then, holding Jungeun as well. 

She started to jerk around, trying to move away from their grip. 

Jinsoul’s vision went dark again. Her hands slipped away. She felt her head meet something soft. 

When she came to, the ceiling was still bright. Yerim was still holding Jungeun upright. 

“Don’t get up,” Yerim said. “I’ve got her.”

Jinsoul stayed where she was. Light, or a lack of it, had never made her light-headed or faint. Was this because she’d _kept_ losing light? 

Jungeun’s breath had quickened now, as had her heart. 

Then she started to cough. Each one had a small wheeze. Her lungs still hadn’t fully healed. 

“I’ll get water.” It was Nuala, her eyes bleary. She’d just woken up. 

“She needs numbing too,” Jinsoul said. “Nothing for sleep.”

“Can you hear me?” Yerim asked. 

Jungeun’s eyes were squeezed shut, but she nodded. More coughs followed, then a long groan. 

Then Nuala was back. 

“Open it,” Yerim said as she took the vial. When Nuala did as she asked, she poured the potion into the water. Yerim took the waterskin and pressed it into Jungeun’s hands. “You have to drink something.” 

Jungeun brought the water up to her lips, but her hands shook. Water trickled down her face. 

Yerim steadied it, helping her. 

Jinsoul slowly made herself sit up. There was only a small surge of dizziness, but no nausea. 

It sank in then that Jungeun was awake. She was moving. She was _alive_. 

When she’d finished drinking, Jungeun relaxed, her brow unknotting. Yerim lowered her back onto the bed. 

“Better?” Yerim looked hopeful, her eyes glowing. That hope was still tentative. They’d been here before, only for Jungeun to fall back into whatever hole the darkness had made for her. 

Jungeun swallowed once. “Yeah,” she croaked. “A lot.” Then she let out a long breath, wincing here and there. “You?” 

Yerim laughed. “Now that you’re awake.” 

Jungeun smiled slightly. “And Jinsoul?”

“Here.” She took her hand. 

Her smile grew. “I hope we’re not gonna be doing this again.” 

Something tightened in her chest at that. It wasn’t pain, but something very close to it. 

“What happened?” Jungeun asked. “I’m not cold anymore.” Her voice was full of relief. 

_I tried to save you_ , Jinsoul thought. _Nothing worked._ “Hyejoo took the darkness.” _Without her, you’d be dead_. She squeezed Jungeun’s hand, fighting her own tears. 

“And then we gave you the light you’d lost,” Yerim said. 

Jungeun’s eyes fluttered open. They were red again. They also weren’t dim anymore. 

Those eyes found hers and Jinsoul felt at ease again. 

But Jungeun frowned. She turned to face her fully. “What happened?” She touched her cheek.” You’re cold.”

“We swapped places?” Jinsoul suggested. 

The furrow in her brow was back. “You drained yourself.” 

“She’ll be alright,” Nuala said. “You both will. If neither of you,” she looked to Yerim then, “well, all _three_ of you, take this time to not exert yourselves. At all.” 

“Why me?” Yerim’s brow shot up. “I’m much better.”

“You still can’t summon any light,” the elder healer replied. “And even when it returns, you’ll still need the time to recover. And we also need to know why you haven’t been able to use the light until now.”

Yerim looked like she was about to pout, but she nodded. 

Jinsoul felt a burst of gratitude for Nuala. She hadn’t necessarily ever been a warm person. Hardly ever, no matter how long you’d known her for. 

But she was undoubtedly a good person. She was like so many of the people Jinsoul respected and admired. 

“I believe that’s all settled now,” Nuala sighed, “I’m going to get some much needed sleep.” She nodded at Jungeun. “You’ll be able to sleep in an hour.” Then she was gone. 

“Yerim,” Jungeun called then. She had her arms out. 

The girl in question climbed onto the bed and sank into them, closing her eyes as she did. 

“This’s the third time you’ve scared me.” Yerim’s voice was muffled. “Save the fourth for a hundred years from now. Or never.” A pause. “I like that more.”

“Me too,” Jinsoul said. She pressed a kiss to the top of Yerim’s head. Then she joined the hug. She kissed Jungeun’s temple as well. 

She wanted to say more, but if anyone else was awake, they’d hear it. She wanted to keep that sort of thing for just the three of them. 

“Like she said, you two should sleep,” Jungeun said. “You both look exhausted.” Something very close to guilt flashed across her eyes. 

“Don’t start thinking like that,” Jinsoul whispered. 

She looked at her, the light in her eyes wasn’t a flicker anymore, but had taken them up completely. Jinsoul felt a familiar warmth just seeing them. 

“I will if you will,” Jungeun muttered. 

Jinsoul didn’t reply. 

“Now sleep.” Jungeun pulled them both back as she laid down. “Or else _I’ll_ start tying the two of you down.” 

______

Even when the hour passed, Jungeun didn’t fall asleep. She couldn’t. She didn’t want to be dropped into another nightmare. 

Especially not when she wa sin a dream now. She was warm again. It didn’t hurt anymore. Even her actual injuries weren’t that bad. She felt _better._

On her right, Yerim stirred, shifting slightly. Jungeun had meant it, Yerim really did look tired. 

Jungeun wondered if she’d dreamt about what’d been happening to her. Things like those fights, or whatever else she’d seen in the town, would’ve had an effect on her. 

She sighed. They’d have to talk about that. She at least had to ask her about it, letting Yerim know that Jungeun had some idea about what was going through—that she could talk to her about it. 

An arm slipped around her waist. The touch sent a slight shiver through her. 

“Can’t sleep?” Jinsoul asked, voice barely a whisper. 

“Not yet,” Jungeun replied. She was still unsettled by the darkness that clung to Jinsoul. It’d once been hers. And Jinsoul had given away so much of her light. For her. 

“Want to try a bit of that draught again?” She lifted her head. Her eyes were bright, but dimmer then normal. 

“I’ll manage.” Jungeun shook her head. She wouldn’t risk falling into that false sense of comfort again, one where she didn’t dream at all. 

“Okay.” Jinsoul rested her head on Jungeun’s chest, looking up at her. Her eyes were searching. Jungeun had no idea what she was looking for. “How’re you feeling?” 

“Good,” she said. She meant that too. “Really good. 

Jinsoul smiled. “I’ve been waiting to hear you say that.” Her arm around Jungeun tightened, pulling her a bit closer. “And for you to mean it.”

She brushed a hand through Jinsoul’s hair. “What about you?” Before she could answer, Jungeun added, “be honest.”

Jinsoul sighed. After a long moment, she finally said, “I’m cold.” 

Jungeun let her skin warm. 

“Keep it like this,” Jinsoul said. “Don’t even try to use your light.” 

“Okay.” She pulled the other elf closer. “I’m sorry I scared you again.” 

Her brow arched up. “I told you, that’s not where your head should be going.” 

“But it was still me who got the light,” Jungeun said. “And it’s not as if you’re getting an apology from Maven or Alluin. Maybe Hanna, if you pushed it.”

Jinsoul shook her head. “That’s not my point. I—” She broke off. “I didn’t know if you’d open your eyes.” A haunted expression appeared then. 

Jungeun felt the echo of that fear. “But I did.” 

“I know.” She looked away. 

“And Yerim and Hyunjin are healed,” she continued. “Hyejoo’s here. The others will heal. You’ll be warm too.” She pressed a kiss to her forehead. “We’ll be okay.”

“I know.” Jinsoul’s eyes were glassier than normal. 

Jungeun rubbed her back. “You can tell me about it,” she said. “You can tell me everything.” 

“Not today,” she mumbled. “Tonight maybe, or tomorrow.” 

She nodded. “Then what can I do?” 

“You don’t have to do anything,” she settled her head on Jungeun’s shoulder, “I just need to know you’re here.”

Jungeun felt a lump form in her throat. She barely knew anything about what Jinsoul had gone through—the waves of fear, uncertainty, and a relief that’d been cut short. All because of the changes in the moon, in the spirits, and in the darkness. And some of it was because of Jungeun. 

“I’m staying here,” she replied. 

Jinsoul hummed, the exhaustion clearly taking hold again. “Good.” 

Seconds passed as the tension in Jinsoul eased, her eyes drooping, opening every now and then. Then they finally fluttered shut. Her grip didn’t loosen, but her breathing slowed.

Jungeun didn’t mind it, but she thought about all of the conversations they hadn’t had yet. It wasn’t even the obvious one, but others, like finding out if Jinsoul was even managing the burdens of healing so many. How she actually felt about Jiwoo being there for Yerim when she hadn’t been there for Hyejoo. Jungeun didn’t even know how she really felt about Yerim’s sight. They hadn’t been able to talk without something else looming over their heads. 

She looked to the two girls at her side. Two people she’d protect with her life. Two people who’d been terrified she’d never wake up again. 

Jungeun’s heart felt heavy. She’d made a promise to be in both their lives more already. She hadn’t fulfilled it. She’d nearly died instead. Twice. 

It shouldn’t have mattered. Jungeun had lost count of the times she’d nearly gotten herself killed. 

But what was so different now was that there were more people around her who cared. More people who worried. 

If Jungeun died, she’d be leaving the lives of others. She didn’t know what to feel about that fact. She had a place in their lives. She was important. 

_Too important_. 

Jungeun closed her eyes. She couldn’t think about this now. There was so much more happening. So much they needed to prepare for. And there were still the conversations waiting to be had—problems she had to try and resolve. 

The rest of her life could wait until everything else was solved. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At one point while writing this, I reread a few of the chapters and saw there were a few chapters. If there are some here as well, I apologise. Uni has been really piling on and one of the things I've got for homework is to learn the many bones of the body (which is coming along very slowly). 
> 
> Regardless of that, this chapter is one of the longer ones, because I wasn't going to leave any of you with a cliffhanger. The problem of the darkness within Jungeun has been here since chapter 14 and Hyejoo finally came back to take it away. In this story, there's a lot of milestones to be had. This is one of the bigger ones, but we're not yet finished. 
> 
> I'd be lying if I said I expected this story to be short, partially because we follow 12 different characters and I think I'm incapable of keeping things short (though I do hope to write a oneshot one day). However, I really hope you're enjoying the path we've been taking. I absolutely love it, because this is a world I've spent a really long time in, but also because I adore the characters. 
> 
> And here's a potentially shameless plug for a Lipsoul prequel to TLotL. It's called The Shadow of the Light and should be placed before this in the 'series'. I promise you don't need to read it, or the story that follows this (also because it's not Loona, but Twice-centred) but if you want to know more about where these two began, you might enjoy it. 
> 
> If you have any thoughts on the story, I'd love to hear them! Your support for this story, in whatever form it is, has made writing this story even better for me. So thank you very much for that :D 


	33. Her pain

Gowon wasn’t sure how the pain had changed since Hyejoo had come here. It’d somehow gotten worse—colder, but also numb. At least to the point that she could ignore it. 

Until she saw her. Or even felt her presence in the camp. Then if felt like a knife had been driven into her side. 

There was another sort of pain too, one that came when she thought of how Hyejoo’s eyes were completely devoid of light. It got stronger when she remembered how cold she looked, while anger seemed to burn just below her indifferent gaze. 

And, of course, the guilt surged with each thought of her. As it always had. 

She saw the same thing in Sooyoung and Jiwoo. They probably would’ve had that conversation sooner, if the two were even talking to one another. 

And then Gowon herself barely wanted to bring it up. She’d come to hate the questioning glances sent her way. Every single person in camp seemed to want to see how she was doing. Not all of them out of concern, but just because they were curious. She’d been the closest to Hyejoo.

She _had_ been. 

She hated that they knew that. She hated that the seers knew about the broken bond. She’d hated it in the beginning to, when people had reassured her that she’d made the right choice. She’d hated that they’d believed she’d been _right_. 

And now she wanted Jiwoo and Sooyoung to stop sending worried glances her way. They were terrible at hiding them. She knew they were worried that her pain would get worse. She didn’t want them to realise that it had. She didn’t want them to worry. 

But not telling them anything wasn’t helping either. It probably made it worse. 

She was surprised the two were still sitting at the fire with her. With each other. 

Jiwoo was doing a lot of the talking, but most of it was directed at Gowon. It was either about the next place they were supposed to go, or just asking Gowon about simple things. Normal things. 

And when Sooyoung pitched in, she spoke only to Gowon. There were the occasional border-line passive-aggressive remarks thrown into the air, but Jiwoo looked unaffected by them. 

To put it lightly, it was infuriating. 

But Gowon didn’t want to step in. Both of them were fully capable of breaking whatever barrier stood between them. 

There was another thing. If she talked about anything _not_ related to patrol or the upcoming eclipse. Eclipses were always a tricky subject. Sometimes the moonlight was focused in such a way that they’d get stronger. Other times, it nearly crippled them. The seers never fared well. Eline had once been stuck in a week-long trance. Gowon still didn’t know what she’d seen. She wondered if Jiwoo had. 

Then again, what had happened to Jiwoo in the eclipses? Gowon had always thought Jiwoo had just been more vulnerable to it, but had it been because she’d also been affected by it? 

She also couldn’t ask about that. Even addressing Jiwoo being a seer would lead to a completely conversation for them. _And_ she didn’t know how Sooyoung would react. 

It was so complicated. Too complicated. Nothing she needed now. 

“I need to go,” Gowon got to her feet, “Seunghee still has my scroll.”

Sooyoung frowned. “The one from Alexandria? You let her _borrow_ it?”

She shrugged. "She's been to a lot of libraries. Wanted to see how it compared."

Then she walked away, quietly whispering a good day. She wondered just how frustrated they were with her. She didn’t check the light to see it. 

She smiled slightly. She wasn’t exactly stepping in. Technically, she’d stepped out, but maybe she’d done something useful. 

______

Chuu and Sooyoung were left in a painfully uncomfortable silence. Never had they been like that before. Chuu hated it. She was also very aware that it was because of her. 

Neither of them were making any move to leave. Was that a good sign? Or were they just not sure how to avoid one another? 

Chuu looked to Chaewon’s path, following it. She’d be going to the forest soon. A darker grey path crossed with hers. Then Gowon’s left it, going to her usual place. The one where she cleaned Hyejoo’s old swords. 

That wasn’t a good sign. She was safe, but Chuu knew they’d have to go to her side. 

They. Would that still be happening? 

And what would Sooyoung say it Chuu brought that up now? What would she think if Chuu started talking about the future, as if it were normal? Would she actually storm off? 

“What does the future say about where I’m going next?” Sooyoung asked. She looked up from the fire and straight at Chuu. She looked cold. Another thing Chuu wasn’t used to. 

“The forest,” she replied. “When we go look for her.” She nodded in the direction Chaewon went. 

Her brow rose. “We will?” 

So Chuu was going to explain it anyway. At least some of it. “She might need us.”

The ice in Sooyoung’s eyes remained. “So you can see that too.”

Chuu shook her head. “I just know where she’s going and where after that.”

“Oh.” She looked away. 

A long moment of silence passed. Chuu wished she could just stand up and leave. 

But that wasn’t what the two of them did. At least not usually. 

“You saw her bond.” Sooyoung said. 

“Before, no,” Chuu shook her head, “but after, when it broke.” She’d never forget it how the beautiful, shimmering bond shattering. It’d stayed as light, but the shadows had gone directly to Chaewon. From that day on, it’d spread, transforming the bond into something else. Something that was still hurting her. 

“I should’ve known they were bound,” Sooyoung muttered. “Even if it wasn’t there, or clear, it was so obvious.” She closed her eyes. “And her hating Chaewon now,” she sank further into herself, “it’ll break her.” 

“I know.” 

“But it’s not just her,” Sooyoung said. “Hyejoo came back to help. They don’t trust her even though she’s saving our lives.” Her brow furrowed. “And we know her magic isn’t hate or rage. We should’ve seen that with the spirits. We see it _now_.” 

She let out a shaky breath. Chuu watched as she put her head in her hands. She could feel the doubt emanating from her. She knew the despair she was feeling. 

“But she’s angry,” Chuu finished. “And she hates so many of us.” For all the right reasons, but she’d only prove the Astra right. 

Sooyoung didn’t reply. 

“And you think that’s what’s going to hurt her.” 

Again, no response. 

“I’m scared of that too,” Chuu said. “When I saw her, her darkness was full of those things. I don’t know how that affects her. I don’t know if it hurts her like it does Chaewon.” 

“It’s like the light,” Sooyoung continued. “We know it can be good, but we’ve seen, _felt_ , how it can be a poison.” She looked up. Tears were in her eyes. “And we know the same applies to the darkness. At least we do now.” She shook her head. “But it’s not like we can stop her hating us. We—" She sank further into herself. 

Chuu wanted to go to her then. She wanted to at least take her hand, but she didn’t. “We deserve it," she finished. She’d never say that in front of Chaewon. She genuinely didn’t think she deserved it. Chuu had seen something that’d scared her. She’d let it happen, because she’d jumped to her decision too soon. 

Sooyoung looked at her for a long moment. Then she stood. 

She wondered if she’d said the wrong thing again. This time by accident. 

Chuu turned back to the flames. She didn’t want to watch her go. It would hurt more than not speaking. 

But Sooyoung sat down beside her. “You saw the same thing Eline did, didn’t you?” 

“Yeah,” she said. “The wrong thing.” Being closer again made her heart ache. That was a familiar pain, one she’d grown very numb to, but now she felt it. 

“Maybe,” Sooyoung replied. “But I believed in the future too.” Her voice was quiet. “I just saw the darkness. I could just think of—” She broke off.

Her father had died years ago to a group of spirits. He’d been alive when they’d brought him back, but completely separated from his body. His eyes, then devoid of colour, had been slowly filling with darkness. They’d known he wouldn’t wake. Chuu had seen his path disappear in that moment. Then they’d let him die. 

“I know.” Chuu took her hand this time. It sent a small rush of warmth through her. A part of her hoped Sooyoung felt the same comfort. A part of her wished she wouldn’t feel the change—that she wouldn’t start realising what the effects of the bond were. 

Sooyoung didn’t pull away. 

“Did you know?” she asked. 

Chuu shook her head. “Not until they realised he was gone,” she said. “But I knew about others.” She realised then that she was past withholding any information. If Sooyoung asked her, she’d tell her everything. 

“Like?” 

“The one time Yuqi nearly got mauled by the wolf,” she replied. “Or Taegen with the coven.” 

A long pause. 

“You nearly got yourself torn in half,” Sooyoung said. Then her brow furrowed even more than before. “So how did you do it?. Did you have a system?”

“System?” 

“You went after Yuqi, we 'found' the coven, and you barely hid knowing about Hyunjin being in danger.” 

“It depended on what I knew before, or what I felt in that moment,” Chuu said. “Sometimes no matter what happened, someone got hurt or—or they died.”

Sooyoung’s grip on her hand tightened. “The future didn’t change?” 

“Sometimes the moon didn’t give any suggestions.” She sighed, thinking of the many things she’d never been able to change. “But we never know that until we try.”

She hummed. She was looking at her, both confused and a little distant. Her grip had loosened, but she wasn’t pulling her hand away. 

Chuu hadn’t seen her path change yet. She was still going to stay here and then go to Chaewon. At least for now. 

“And you knew,” Sooyoung began. “That if _we_ knew, we’d all try to change it?” A pause. “And if only you knew about it, it’s just you who couldn’t save them. The rest just had bad timing.” 

“That’s not everything,” Chuu said. “I was scared to tell you. The longer it went on, the more scared I got.” She shrugged. “But the main reason is because it was always supposed to be a secret. My secret.” She turned away. She pulled her hand away then. 

She felt a pang of hurt, one that wasn’t her own. She fought the urge to move away. She didn’t want to feel any trace of the bond. Especially not in this moment. 

But it was impossible. It was still there. 

“But how did you do it?” Sooyoung wasn’t looking at her. “How’d you lie for _years_?” Her voice trembled. 

The answer to that was simple. “I got good at it.” 

“And used to it,” she said, turning back to her. “It became natural.” The look of betrayal came then. The look Chuu had always feared, but never seen. Not like this. 

The hurt Chuu felt now was her own. She couldn’t say anything to that. Not when it was true.

“And what about now?”

“Now?” Chuu forced herself to meet Sooyoung’s gaze. “You’ll get the truth,” she said quietly. _Always_ , she added in her head. It wasn't a promise she wanted to make aloud. 

And if Sooyoung would still have anything to do with her, Chuu would tell her what she was seeing. She’d be roped into discussions with the seers too now. She’d be brought into the fold. Exactly what she hadn’t wanted. 

But they were all stepping into a future more uncertain than a hurricane. If there was any time to start accepting her own fate of sight, then it was now. 

Sooyoung didn’t say anything. Her eyes were still on Chuu’s. Was she searching for the next lie? Or preparing to say something else? Something that would hurt more than lying had. 

Before that happened, Chuu risked saying more. “I don’t like seeing what I do. I never did,” she told her. “There were things I could stop, but a lot of things that just stayed inevitable.”

And no matter where she looked, she always saw the future. Even in her dreams, it often came to her. 

There still wasn’t a response. Chuu realised she didn’t want one. She was grateful that Sooyoung wasn’t commenting on anything, but she was still wondering about what she was thinking. Were Chuu’s words hurting her? 

But even if they were, Sooyoung deserved to hear all of it. She deserved a lot more. All Chuu could give her were words. 

“Not telling you never meant I didn’t trust you.” She stood up, reclaiming a much needed distance. “I don’t think there’s anything I wouldn’t trust you with.” 

Sooyoung’s mouth was slowly twisting into a frown. 

“We should go find Chaewon,” Chuu said. “Or I can tell you where she’s going and you can meet her there.” She started walking. 

She heard Sooyoung stand and follow. She still hadn’t said anything. 

She didn’t say anything the entire time. Chuu wasn’t sure which was worse. The silence made her wonder. The silence scared her. 

But she also didn’t want to hear a response. 

______

The moment Gowon reached the river, she regretted being there. The night had been transformed by her presence. Everything she saw had a trace of rage, hurt, and something very close to loneliness. 

And Gowon felt the surprised anger when Hyejoo realised she was there. 

She could hear the distant footsteps. She could feel the slow rise of Hyejoo's anger—her pain. 

Gowon wanted to run away. She wanted to go back to the camp. She wanted Jiwoo and Sooyoung to be with her. 

But she didn’t move. Whatever was going to happen now, even if her heart was broken further, she’d deserve it. 

Each step Hyejoo took tugged at the bond. It felt like a needle being driven further and further into her chest. That needle got thicker the closer Hyejoo came. 

Gowon forced herself to not think of the pain. She instead focused on the light she still had, bringing it closer to her heart. It worked only a little, but that was enough. 

And when she saw Hyejoo drawing away from the shadows, she made sure her face didn’t give away how the bond was hurting her. The needle had turned into a knife. 

Of all the things Hyejoo was going to see here, Gowon’s pain wasn’t a part of that. It couldn’t be. 

“What happened?” Hyejoo asked, her voice still that strange rasp. It’d once been smooth and light, almost airy. “Why do you look like that?” 

Gowon frowned. Why did that matter? “Nothing happened.” 

The air around them turned cold. Gowon could almost feel how the shadows wanted to go close to Hyejoo. 

“Don’t you dare lie to me,” she spat. 

The words yanked at the broken bond. It hurt, but Gowon didn’t let it show. She’d not hidden the pain earlier. She needed to now. 

“I’m not,” Gowon said. “T-this,” she hated how her voice wavered, “this came with time.” 

Hyejoo’s brow furrowed, but the anger in her eyes didn’t go away. “Being vague isn’t helping anything.” 

“Because I can’t tell you anything!” she protested. “It just came over the years. I don’t know how.” She knew why, but she wasn’t going to say that to Hyejoo. She couldn’t.

She was looking at the space around her. For a moment, Gowon was terrified that she’d see the bond too. It didn’t make much sense at all that Gowon could see it in the first place, but she could. Maybe Hyejoo just needed time around it, before she saw it. She hoped she’d never know about it. 

“It wasn’t a spirit,” Hyejoo said slowly. “And it wasn’t from someone like me.” 

Gowon just shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

She felt the shadows shift. Not because of anger. At least it didn’t feel like that. 

“It,” Hyejoo started. Then her eyes turned hard. “No, it doesn’t matter.” 

There it was again. Pain. 

And Gowon’s eyes were already starting to sting. 

She took a step back.

“That’s all you can say about it?” Hyejoo asked. 

Why couldn’t they drop this? Why couldn’t Hyejoo just walk away from her? 

“What else should I say?” _That it hurts, that it’s only because of me, that I miss you more than anyone in the world—that I know you’ll never forgive me for what I did. Neither will I._

“What you think’s happening?” Hyejoo threw back, a bite in her voice. “You lose so much light that it changes you and you have _no idea_ why?”

Gowon didn’t know why she was asking. She’d _just_ said it didn’t matter. Why couldn't one of them just leave? 

Hyejoo took a step forward. “Because from what I’m seeing, you’re not even trying to find it out. You’re also not looking me in the eye.” A pause. “Tell me,” she said, “what happened.” Her eyes bore into Gowon’s. She could feel the barely concealed anger there. She could see the hatred there. 

And it just made everything hurt more. 

Gowon looked away. 

And the anger got stronger. 

“We don’t know.” It was Jiwoo. 

Hyejoo stiffened. “Really?” Her voice was very quiet. “You know exactly where I’ll be, where I’ll go,” she turned to her, “but you can’t tell me why she looks like that?” The hatred was stronger. And it wasn't burning. It was just cold. 

Jiwoo wasn’t looking away. “No.” 

For one of the first times, Gowon saw how easily Jiwoo could hide the truth. She'd rarely been able to see those lies before. 

But in the same moment, the darkness around them surged. 

“You’re lying,” Hyejoo hissed. “Lies have a shadow. I see that." Her hand balled into a fist. 

Something yanked at Gowon’s feet, making her stumble. It was cold. Anger shot through her in the same moment. The pain in her chest also doubled. She dug her nails into her palm. 

She knew then that Hyejoo had taken hold of her shadow. 

By the way the other two had lurched forward, she’d done the same to them. Jiwoo was staring at the ground, eyes wide, while Sooyoung was looking at Hyejoo, something between desperation and pain in her eyes. 

“So you came to protect her?” Hyejoo's eyes were mocking as she looked down at her. Her lips curled into a sneer. 

It made it painfully clear how pathetic Gowon was. Her eyes burned even more, but she forced the tears back. 

Hyejoo’s grip on her shadow tightened. Ice crawled up her legs. 

A part of her knew she’d be able to get free. She just had to use the light.

But she stayed where she was. Neither Sooyoung or Jiwoo made to get free either. 

“We’re on guard,” Sooyoung said then. Her expression was both masked and vulnerable, as if she didn’t know what to show Hyejoo. 

Gowon didn’t know what to show either. Lying would be the worst thing she could do. Telling the truth wasn’t much better either. 

“Did you know,” Hyejoo was looking at Jiwoo now, “did you know I’d get the darkness?” 

“No,” Jiwoo said, her gaze thawing. “No one did.” 

Hyejoo was quiet, but there wasn’t any change in the anger. She believed her. 

“But you knew where I’d be,” she muttered. “Why go to the witch?” 

Jiwoo was silent for a long time. She looked to Sooyoung, before meeting Gowon’s eyes. “They didn’t know.” 

Hyejoo frowned. “What?” 

“I’ve had the sight since I was a child,” she replied, her jaw clenched. “I never told anyone except for Eline and one other who got the sight.” 

“Yerim.” Hyejoo’s mask had softened ever so slightly. 

And that was because Yerim hadn’t turned away from her. 

“I’m only letting you go once you tell me the truth,” Hyejoo said then. The cold strengthened, as if to prove that point. 

“Why do we have to tell you?” Sooyoung asked. The indifference had overcome her vulnerability. “You said you didn’t care.” She let out a yelp when she was dragged across the ground, scrambling to right herself. She fell to Hyejoo’s feet. 

“It’s because you’re hiding something.” Hyejoo’s hand lifted. 

And Sooyoung was forced to her feet, shadows now coating her legs. Gowon saw her wince. 

“So just say it.” Her voice was still a rasp, but it filled Gowon's ears. Another reminder of what Hyejoo had lost. 

Gowon closed her eyes. Hyejoo could’ve demanded an explanation for why they’d turned on her. Gowon would’ve given that. She could’ve forced them to beg for her forgiveness. Gowon would’ve done that. Instead, she wanted an explanation for the darkness that Gowon now held. The one thing she didn’t want to say. 

“I don’t know _why_ it’s happening,” Gowon said, gritting her teeth. “Light doesn’t help it. We just know it’s connected to something.” 

When Hyejoo turned, she didn’t look at her, but at the space in front of her. For a moment, Gowon was afraid that the bond actually reached Hyejoo. 

But it vanished from view before it reached her. That either meant it wasn’t a part of her anymore, or Gowon just couldn’t see that piece of it. 

“And in the years I’ve had it, there was never more of it.” She forced herself to look at Hyejoo directly. The pain nearly crippled her, but she focused on pressing her fingernails deeper into her palm. That was a different pain. “It just never went away.” That was the truth, but not the one Hyejoo was asking for. 

But the words wouldn’t have a shadow. Gowon would make sure of it. 

Slowly, the hold on their shadows eased. 

“Whatever it is,” Hyejoo’s voice was still quiet, rougher, “I’m not going to take it.” 

“I wasn’t going to ask you to.” Gowon took a step back the moment she was able to. 

Sooyoung also got to her feet, a long streak of mud across her clothes. The mask of indifference was still there, but it was on the verge of falling away. Gowon didn’t like that she could tell that. 

Jiwoo wasn’t looking at any of them, but only at the ground. There was a very clear shame there. 

“I don’t want to see any of you,” Hyejoo said. The shadows were slowly coalescing around her. “You see me, you turn the other way.” She finally turned away. “Or I’ll make you.” 

The shadows fully fell away from them. Gowon felt as Hyejoo’s presence eased off of the bond. It didn’t lessen the pain. It grew less sharp, but the ache was getting stronger. As if the knife in her had been taken away, only for a stone to be pressed over the wound. 

And that just continued as they watched Hyejoo disappear into the night. 

Gowon closed her eyes, feeling the tears blossom beneath her lids. She let them fall. 

As she fell to the ground, two sets of arms caught her. 

“We’ve got you,” Sooyoung was saying. 

They’d been here before. Instead of _it’s okay_ , Sooyoung was telling her she was there. At least she’d learned. 

Gowon fought to keep her sobs silent. The last thing she wanted Hyejoo hearing was her pain. Not when she deserved this. 

Jiwoo and Sooyoung were both murmuring their reassurances. They were both trying to keep her from sinking into her head. They were both trying to be there for her, when they were probably feeling just as terrible as she was. 

But they were able to hold it together. Gowon wasn’t. 

She realised then that in the decades since Hyejoo’s banishment, she was still stuck in the place she’d fallen into. It was a hole she’d dug for herself. It was a hole that had been gradually sealed with her still inside. 

And she couldn’t bring herself to dig herself out of it. 

______

Olivia could hear the desperation in Yves’ voice as she tried to tell Gowon she was there for her. She heard the barely concealed pain in Chuu’s voice as she told her they could stay there as long as they needed. 

And then there were the broken sobs filling the silence of the night. Each choked breath in between tugged at Olivia’s feet. 

“No,” Gowon coughed, “I’m fi—just leave me a-al—” A long sigh. “I need to be alone.” Even through the tears, there was only a gentle bite to the words. Not like before, when there'd been a poorly concealed anger. 

“Not out here,” Yves said. “We’ll go on guard. You get the tent to yourself, just,” she faltered as well, “just be in the camp. Not here.” 

Olivia didn’t wait to hear the response. She kept walking. 

She didn’t stop until the sounds of the rushing river completely replaced the silence. She didn’t stop until she reached the cave Vivi had made for her. 

Olivia sighed, sinking to the ground. Her cheek pressed onto cool rock. It was comforting. 

She was alone again.

And when she closed her eyes, the first tears finally bloomed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was about time I get back to the yyxy storyline. I'm sorry it had to be like this. I was debating whether or not to add in other perspectives, but it genuinely didn't really fit. That's also why this is a much smaller chapter. I'm already writing the next scenes, but I figured I'd leave the weekend off with this (not quite sure if that was a gift or not). It was actually really difficult to write this chapter. This is the first real interaction between the four since the 'flashback' scenes. It may read weird at first, but there's a reason behind that, specifically in how 'off' Hyejoo's reaction may seem. 
> 
> The only consolation is that Jiwoo and Sooyoung actually talked? The subject is definitely not resolved, but the common theme in this story is that certain things will drown 'normal life' out for a while. That's been fluctuating a lot in this story and for some, OEC for example, their 'normal' lives are coming back into the picture. For 1/3, they've also been getting there. As for yyxy, there hasn't been a balance since Hyejoo was banished. 
> 
> If you've got any predictions for how those different storylines will be going now, I'd love to hear them. Most are pretty much established for me, but my plan's fluctuated now and then. There was a time when I'd intended to have a minor subplot with Jungeun and Jiwoo, but that went out of the window when I realised just how complicated Lipsoul and Chuuves were getting. 
> 
> I know this story's long, but that was basically my dream when I started this story. Being concise definitely wasn't the goal, not when it's a story about a little more than five characters and I wanted to give them each a good amount of development (hopefully I'm doing alright with that!)
> 
> Thank you for reading this story and also giving feedback every now and then. Seeing your comments, but also just knowing that people are still reading, makes me incredibly happy. My style might sometimes be difficult to get into, I know that, and the longer this story gets, the more intimidating it might be, but if you're still reading, that means so much to me. 


	34. Thank you

Haseul reached their fire pit and her legs nearly gave out. She flopped onto the ground, fighting the urge to sigh in relief. 

Her patrol had taken up two days. They hadn’t been going out far enough and the aggression of the spirits had led to humans getting hurt as well. 

Haseul had ‘cured’ at least six vampires, three witches, an entire wandering family of fae, and maybe even ten humans. Seven people had died before she could reach them. 

She tried not to think about the grieving families. She tried not to think about how it could’ve all been avoided if they’d have kept people on patrol. She tried not to think about the fact that those deaths were because they’d been distracted. She should’ve been more adamant that the patrols should continue, be just as frequent as hunts. 

She made herself think about the good. Jungeun was alright. Hyunjin was okay again. Hyejoo was back. 

She was here. 

Haseul decided then and there that she’d have dinner with her and not in camp. Maybe then Hyejoo would feel comfortable having them around again. 

But for now, she just needed to take her mind off of the last days. Off of the rest too. She didn’t want to think about Alluin for at least another few hours. 

Yoona had already stopped her to tell her about the meeting tomorrow afternoon, when most were asleep. They needed to think about their next steps. 

And that’d almost definitely involve Hyejoo. Haseul didn’t want to discuss that, but she knew someone would raise the question. Could Hyejoo tell them anything about the threat they were facing? 

But would Hyejoo tell them? There was the chance she wouldn’t _want_ to betray Alluin, which Haseul could understand. The others probably wouldn’t, even though they could be so immensely loyal to the Astra, as well as others they trusted. 

“Hungry?” A voice tugged her from her thoughts. “Or thinking?” 

Haseul looked up to see Vivi by the pot. “I think there’s still soup.” The fire caught in her hair. More than usual. 

“You changed your hair.” 

Vivi smiled. “I had pink for the longest time. I was getting tired of it.” And now it was orange. 

“It looked good,” she said. “Really good.” 

She glanced away. “You’re really keeping up with those compliments.” A stone bowl flew into her hand. It began to glow. “Soup?” 

“Yes please.” 

She watched as Vivi took out a serving, before a spoon of moonlight appeared. 

The sight of that made Haseul smile. Vivi had learned how to use the light so quickly. She’d managed to find a place here. Whether or not she felt that way as well, Haseul wasn’t sure yet. 

“Am I ready for patrol yet?” Vivi asked. She passed her the bowl before sitting down beside her. Warmth seemed to seep away from her. Haseul found herself leaning closer. 

“You want to go?” 

A nod. “The best I’ve been doing is guard, but Sooyoung said I shouldn’t risk being out too often.” 

That was surprising. Sooyoung was trying to protect her, at least to an extent. 

“You’re going to say she only means well,” Vivi muttered. 

Haseul grinned. “Maybe.”

Vivi sighed. “I know.” Then she looked at her. “So, are you going to be like her and tell me it isn’t a good idea?” 

“Yeah,” Haseul admitted. “It’s not as easy as it used to be.” 

“But you were out for days,” Vivi countered. “Alone?” Before she could open her mouth, the other girl continued, “that’s different” She raised a brow. “You told me Jungeun was one of the strongest people in this camp.” 

She shrugged. “I’ve got a lot of experience.” At least that was true. She could avoid tricky routes and gaze how much light she still needed or was missing. 

Vivi just hummed. Her brow was lightly furrowed. “When’s your next one?” 

“Next week.” 

Her frown deepened. 

Haseul also frowned. “What’s wrong with that? We need those patrols.”

“But that increases the risk,” Vivi replied. “And if it wasn’t already clear, safety isn’t always a guarantee. Especially not now.”

The comment brought Jungeun’s limp form to mind. She saw the spirit mauling Hyunjin again. 

“Don’t start that,” Vivi muttered. 

“What?” 

“ _Everyone_ thought Jungeun would never get to the brink of death. They always thought she’d back long before she reached that. And then she nearly overstepped it.” 

“These patrols aren’t for our safety,” Haseul said. “They’re for that of the people who’ve no defence against our ‘risks’.” Flashes of the tearful faces came to her, then those who’d been left drained by their grief. “

Vivi reached over, putting a hand on her arm. “I’m not telling you to stop,” she said slowly. “I’m asking if I can go with you.” 

The frustration that’d been building suddenly dissipated. Haseul just nodded. 

Vivi’s thumb brushed over her skin. She felt a gentle rush of warmth. It made her nervous. She counted herself lucky that it was the good kind. 

“You can,” Haseul replied. “Just as long as you’re alright with being away for a few days. There’s a lot.” 

She smiled. It was a softer one. Sweeter. “I can handle it.”

Haseul felt an overwhelming urge to close whatever distance was between them. What held her back was if this was too sudden. Weren’t they friends? _Were_ they friends? Or was Haseul still supposed to just be a quasi-mentor to her? 

“You still have to eat your soup,” Vivi said. She was still looking at her. Then she let go of her arm. 

Haseul almost wished she hadn’t. 

Vivi told her a bit about what she’d missed. Certain spirits had been spotted coming closer, but Hyejoo had turned them. People weren’t quite so pleased with it, but they couldn’t say much when exactly that transformation could be saving their lives. 

“It was always a matter of beliefs, wasn’t it?” Vivi asked then. 

“The spirits?” 

She shook her head. “Hyejoo.” Her light pink eyes were on the fire. “It wasn’t because she was an outsider, but rather everyone being convinced she was dangerous.” A pause. “Because darkness had always been a danger before. Or seen as one.” 

“As far as we know, she and Alluin are the only ones who got that magic.” 

“And he’d become dangerous,” Vivi murmured. “But until then, had she been treated poorly because of her lack of magic?”

“Not by most,” Haseul replied. “Some thought she was weaker for it. She devoted her time to getting better at other things.” 

That’d included patrols and guard duty. Almost always, Gowon had gone with her, making up for the moonlight she didn’t have. It’d never mattered to Gowon if she’d put herself at a disadvantage. It’d only been important to her that Hyejoo could protect herself. They’d been the perfect team. 

Vivi nodded. 

“What brought this on?” Haseul asked. 

“I just wanted to understand,” she hesitated before continuing, “when I came here, I’d expected to be treated the way Hyejoo is now. I see the difference between outsiders and what she is much more clearly now.” She looked away from the fire to her. “And it’s a bit of a relief that this was based on the prejudice against the magic, not the person she was.”

Was. Because even Vivi saw that Hyejoo had been changed by the years since her banishment. 

Vivi sighed. “It doesn’t excuse anything, mind you, but I can understand it better.” The corner of her lips tugged up. “Makes the Astra a bit less cruel and more stupidly ignorant.” 

Haseul could only nod along. The entire situation could be boiled down to simpler terms, explained in a way that made a proper overview possible. Vivi was able to do that effortlessly, partly because she was a bit more detached from the situation itself, but also because it was the way she approached things. 

It was something Haseul always tried to do, but had a lot of trouble maintaining that perspective. 

“You know I don’t mean you, right?” Vivi knocked her shoulder with Haseul’s. “I haven’t seen you treat the ‘other’ any different to your own people.” 

Haseul smiled. “That’s also because you’re one of us,” she said. “At least,” she faltered, “I see you as that. Doesn’t mean you have to feel at home here.” 

She patted her hand. “I don’t yet, but I am starting to feel a sense of belonging.” Her hand lingered on Haseul’s. “And Jungeun told me that’s what you do best.” 

“Jinsoul didn’t really trust me at the start,” Haseul replied. “Neither did Yerim. For good reasons, but them starting to belong was much more because of Jungeun.”

“And me?” Vivi raised a brow. “Those three were a bit preoccupied.” She grimaced. “To no fault of their own.” 

She started piecing it together then. “I didn’t do much.” _Not enough_ , she added. 

“Not true,” she chuckled, “you made it feel normal to be here, even when everything was at its strangest.” Her smile softened. “And you managed to make me feel welcome here, something a fair amount of people from my old home couldn’t do.”

That was another thing. Haseul still didn’t know from where exactly Vivi had come from. She knew which clan and where they were, but she didn’t know what they were like, at least not in comparison to other fae. 

It’d be for another time. She’d ask her then. 

Haseul shifted her hand so she was holding Vivi’s. 

“And at the same time, you spoke to me in fae, gave me some damn good training,” her eyes were bright, “and you trusted me.” 

She didn’t have to say it. Haseul knew very well how important someone’s trust was. With your own people, there was an intrinsic trust, one strengthened through centuries. When someone new came or, in Haseul’s case, she needed to go to others, trust was a tricky thing to establish. Sometimes it went smoothly, other times there were several challenges, ones that could either shatter the trust or build it up. Immortality made trust invaluable, but the price of getting it could sometimes be high. Saving a person wasn’t enough, sometimes you needed years of deeds, favours, and words being exchanged. 

It’d been easy to trust Vivi. Not only had it been the way she’d carried herself, but also in the way she’d handled the entire situation. 

“You thanked me before,” Vivi muttered. “It’s my turn.” She leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to her cheek. 

Haseul couldn’t help but smile. “You should thank me more often.” 

“Really?” A smile started to form on her lips. 

She winked. “Really.” 

______

Choerry knew she was probably supposed to give Jinsoul and Jungeun _several_ moments to themselves, but she didn’t want to leave either of them until she knew both were alright. 

She didn’t let go of Jungeun’s hand unless she was getting them food, a potion, or more light. 

Jinsoul’s scream still drifted into her mind now. That had been the instant Jinsoul had thought she’d lose Jungeun completely. Choerry hoped Jungeun wouldn’t know what the moment had been like. It would be another burden she’d take on. 

And then there was Jinsoul herself. The look in her eyes was either torn between pure elation and fragile exhaustion. Choerry didn’t know what was going on in her head, but she was sure that the past days would leave a lasting scar. She wished they wouldn’t, but they already had. 

There’d been two instances where the light had left Jungeun’s path. Two instances where Choerry had been terrified of losing one of the most important people in her life. 

And if Jungeun had left them, Choerry herself would’ve been completely lost, but Jinsoul would’ve been left broken. It wasn’t just because of the bond they shared—that didn’t lead to the way Jungeun and Jinsoul were connected. Heejin and Priad were the perfect example of that. Heejin would never wish any harm on him, no matter what else happened, but she wouldn’t lose a piece of herself if something would happen. 

“How’s Hyejoo now?” Jungeun asked. It was almost weird to see her with bright eyes. Before, the lack of light had added a fragility to her. Now she looked as she always had: someone who could withstand any blow. 

Choerry now knew that wasn’t true. They’d painfully been shown that no matter how constant a person seemed—how secure in their life they were—they could be ripped from it at any time. 

That truth scared her. It also made her pull both of them closer. 

Jinsoul had made Choerry sit in between them, something she’d tried—and failed—to protect. It hadn’t been a surprise, but it made it even more obvious how much Jinsoul cared. Choerry knew full well just how desperate, and terrified, Jinsoul had been. She knew how much Jinsoul _needed_ to know that Jungeun was alright. 

“She came a few times to help the other,” Choerry said. “But she’s been keeping away from camp.”

Jungeun nodded, a frown evident in her face. 

She was worried that Hyejoo was pulling away even more from them. Doing what Choerry had at first. The situation was very different, but Choerry knew Jungeun was still worried. 

“We can go to her soon,” Jinsoul said. “When you’re better.” 

“You mean when we’re all better,” Choerry countered. 

She nodded. “Sorry,” she winked, “all of us.” 

Choerry tried to check on the light then. It gave her a headache to try, but she was starting to see things again. She still didn’t know why she’d gotten the sight first. And then there was the fact that the shadows and darkness were more visible too. 

Even though Hyejoo had taken the darkness from both Jinsoul and Jungeun, there were the inevitable shadows and shadows of grey around both of them. Choerry saw that so much better than she saw Jungeun’s relief of being free of the darkness, more than Jinsoul’s relief that Jungeun was alright again. 

Instead she could feel the doubt and fear that still clung to Jinsoul, as well as her dread of something going wrong again. She could feel the way the nightmares followed Jungeun, not even leaving her when everything else was comfortable. 

“Yerim.” It was Jinsoul. She took her hand next. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” she said. “I think.” 

Her brow formed that typical arch of hers. “You think.” 

Jungeun leaned forward then, concern also entering her expression. Choerry felt of rush of emotion at being _here_. Every now and then, the two had almost become her parents. She preferred to think of them as her sisters, but much of the time, they went above even that. 

“It’s coming back—my magic, I mean,” she said. “But it’s still weird.” At their continued frowns, she added, “but the main thing is, I’m getting it back.” 

Jungeun nodded. “We’ll have to see if Hyunjin’s got it back as well.” 

Choerry could only nod. Hyunjin’s path was better. So much better, but she had more shadows than most, even though she shouldn’t have had that much. It was bizarre. A bit worrying too, but her path was safe. Bright. 

So we’re all of theirs. That had to count for something. It did. For the time being, they were all alright. 

What happened next, however, without looming dangers, was something Choerry couldn’t see. 

And that included the unspoken conversation between the two girls beside her. 

______

Some immortals were able to have their family all their life. Others lost them after spending a good amount of time, one of several centuries, to even a millennia. 

Gowon had been alive for twenty years when her family was murdered. She’d really started to see her parents for the people they were, not just the ones who’d raised her. She’d seen their flaws, but also learned to love them even more for that. 

And then they’d been taken away from her. The emotional fae had come. One of them had filled her parents’ minds with anger, making them unable to think, unable to feel anything but that emotion. Anger burned too. It’d gone into their blood and they’d screamed less out of rage, and more out of agony. 

Gowon could still feel the anger that’d been in her own blood. She’d killed the fairy. She remembered stabbing her through the heart, twisting the knife. 

But it hadn’t mattered. Not really. The minds of her parents had already been lost. Killing them would’ve been a mercy. 

And that mercy had been given. Gowon didn’t remember who’d done it. 

She’d pulled away from most. She’d managed that for a good year, avoiding the concerned questions and eyes full of pity. 

Until Sooyoung had started to come over to her when she’d had an early dinner, or just about forced her to come out for patrol and hunts. She’d been adamant, but patient, even when Gowon had just about screamed at her to leave her alone. 

Jiwoo had come into the picture soon after, a lot less insistent. She’d just spent time with her, either talking at length about everything and anything, or just staying quiet to keep her company. Gowon knew they’d planned that. 

They hadn’t ever mentioned her parents, but it’d been painfully obvious that that was why they’d come to her. She’d only seen them occasionally before. With Sooyoung being one of the ones chosen to be an elder (in the distant future) and Jiwoo almost always by her side, they’d essentially been a class above her. 

Several times, she’d told them to drop the charade and that she didn’t need them. 

Several times, Sooyoung had told her to shut up and eat the noodle soup she’d made, while Jiwoo had just given her a warm smile. 

It’d continued that way. Gowon was almost always accompanied by Sooyoung, Jiwoo, or both. She’d asked them once if the people before her had gotten tired of them. 

They’d asked her then if she wanted to meet their friends. 

She’d walked away. 

During that time, the Astra hadn’t been as peace-loving as they were now. Theirs, as well as a few others without a sense for the future, had felt dark magic brewing by the sea. A group of ten had been sent out. They’d come back as four. One had had an injury that’d taken four years to heal. The rest had been left mangled on the beach. 

The dark magic had been blood magic. 

It’d been long since they’d lost anyone, at least it’d felt like that to the rest. 

Immediately, they’d started to plan their revenge. They’d drawn in as many as they could. 

Gowon remembered volunteering. She remembered the surprised expressions, as well as the beginnings of protest. She’d shut them down. 

And that night, she’d avoided Jiwoo and Sooyoung as best she could, knowing they’d probably want her to stay away. 

She’d gone into the forest with her food, prepared to set up a fire and maybe even watch the sun rise. 

She’d heard someone crying. There wasn’t sobbing or actual cries, but something much more subdued. 

Gowon hadn’t meant to be noticed, but the person had heard her. 

That person had been Hyejoo. She’d lost her mother and father to the blood-wielder. 

And of all the people to be around her during the time of grief, Gowon had known she wasn’t the best for that. 

But she’d been the only one there. And she’d wanted to see if Sooyoung and Jiwoo had been right in not leaving her alone. 

She had been. 

Gowon had known Hyejoo, but only really seen her at celebrations and other gatherings. She’d been known all throughout the camp for not having moonlight, even though she’d actually possessed it. 

They hadn’t spoken much at all that night, but it felt like Hyejoo hadn’t needed to talk. 

_“You’re going too?” Hyejoo asked, her voice thick and her eyes swollen. “To the sea.”_

_She nodded, not yet trusting her voice. Hyejoo had lost the two people closest to her. She’d lost them far too soon. How could Gowon say anything to quell that grief?_

_“They don’t want me going,” she said. “They’ll think I’ll lose control.” She shook her head. “Over what, I don’t know.”_

_“You might,” Gowon replied. She’d torn into the fairy, nearly taking her heart out before someone had wrenched her back. “But you might think back to this moment all your life if you stay here now.”_

_Hyejoo frowned. “You sound like—” Then her eyes widened. “Oh,” she breathed._

_She knew that look. It was the shock at the reminder. It came right before the pity._

_“Did you want to kill him yourself?”_

_It was a surprising question, to say the least. “No,” she admitted._

_Hyejoo’s brow rose. Then something in her eyes closed off. “You’re not going to tell me to spare them, are you?”_

_“No,” she repeated. “I,” she trailed off. How many people knew what’d happened? “He wasn’t the one who took them, not really.”_

_She nodded once._

_“Killing her didn’t hurt me,” Gowon told her. “But it didn’t help anything either.”_

_A frown started to form again._

_“You still have to go, I know,” she continued. “But if you don’t get your revenge, that doesn’t mean they weren’t avenged.” She wanted to tell her not to risk her life for this. Blood magic was rare. It was also a terror to most. You could barely defend yourself against it. That was why they needed to overwhelm them. That was why they needed to time the attack perfectly._

_It was also why they’d let people like Gowon and Hyejoo go along in the first place. In any other setting, they were too weak._

_Except for this._

_Hyejoo didn’t say anything else._

_Neither did Gowon._

_But neither of them left._

Gowon had barely seen Hyejoo after that, but she’d known that the girl was training. She now knew that Hyejoo used blades made by mortal blacksmiths. She’d learned that Hyejoo had already known Jiwoo and Sooyoung, as well as their friends, but now she’d pulled away as well. They’d let her. 

So Gowon had as well. 

She didn’t see her until until they’d left for the sea. 

Hyejoo had sent her a small smile. It’d been in that moment that Gowon had been scared for what was coming. She’d been scared that Hyejoo would go straight for the one who’d killed her parents. She’d been scared that her emotions would blind her and she’d not see a blow coming her way. She’d been scared that Hyejoo would succeed and kill the person responsible. She’d been scared that Hyejoo would feel the same emptiness she did when thinking about her revenge. 

_They were nearly there. All it took were a few moments of concentration, then you could hear the distant sounds of conversation._

_Hyejoo had already pulled out her sword, her grip on it nearly making the weapon shake. There was a mixture of pain and anger in her eyes._

_“Here,” Gowon said. She made a dagger of light._

_She frowned at it. “I don’t need that.” There was a defensive bite to her voice. She’d been here before._

_“I know,” she held it out to her, “but my light’s one that subdues people. It’ll weaken them.”_

_“I don’t want to weaken them,” Hyejoo muttered._

_Gowon pressed it into her hand. “Maybe, but if you need one more blow, this could be the difference between you dying or surviving this.” And for all of the anger that was in her, Gowon also knew that Hyejoo was far from cruel. The light would clear her mind. Hyejoo would maybe see more clearly what she wanted to. If she actually wanted to kill the blood-wielder, then that decision would be cemented even more for her._

_But if she didn’t, maybe she’d hold back from giving into her anger._

_Hyejoo had looked at it for a long moment, before slipping it into the belt at her waist._

Hyejoo had fought the elf who’d killed her parents. 

She hadn’t killed him. 

And the entire way back, Hyejoo had been nursing the ruined arm that the elf had left her with. Haseul had alternated with Sooyoung to make healing runes. 

Hyejoo had pushed them away when Haseul’s eyes had started to droop. 

Once again, people had let her be. 

Gowon had strayed away from most, but Jiwoo had come to her side. She hadn’t said anything, but she’d squeezed her hand once. 

It hadn’t been overbearing like before. It’d been enough. 

When they’d gotten back to camp, there’d been a slightly sombre mood, but life had gone on. Gowon had let herself be taken on patrols and guard duties with Sooyoung, Jiwoo, and even Hyunjin, someone she’d known a bit more than the rest. She’d let the girls help her move her tent too. She was surprised to see that Heejin and Haseul were near there too. These were people she’d only ever heard be spoken about. They’d been praised for their capabilities and bravery, most eyes following them because they’d eventually be their leaders. 

She’d also met Yeojin, who’d proceeded to drag her into nightly escapes from camp. Gowon had almost appreciated that more than being cooked for every night. Almost. 

And two weeks after that, Hyejoo had started to join them during meals. 

What’d shocked her most was that none of the rest had treated her with caution. They’d steered away from certain subjects if they came up, but they’d never talked to Hyejoo as if she were glass. They’d never looked at her with pity (though Gowon had seen Jiwoo give Hyejoo hugs that lingered, or Sooyoung giving the girl _slightly_ larger portions). 

Months passed with a strange normalcy settling over her life. Gowon had fallen into the habit of teasing Yeojin, bickering with Sooyoung and Hyunjin, and trying to compete with Jiwoo to see who had the highest voice (Jiwoo). With Hyejoo, the only words they spoke to one another were short jokes within the conversation. It was enough to earn a smile from her, but far from what had come later. 

Until they’d both been sent into town to get their weekly supply of foodstuffs. 

_“It worked,” Hyejoo said._

_“What did?” Gowon asked, shifting the bag on her shoulder. She could carry it no problem, but it was pinching her skin._

_“The light,” her eyes were on the trees, “it made his magic weaker.” She flexed her hand then. It was still very weak, but it worked again. Within a few years, the internal structures would be back to normal._

_It didn’t take long for her to realise what they were talking about. “Good.”_

_Hyejoo sighed then. “You were hoping I’d spare him, weren’t you?”_

_Gowon looked up. She didn’t feel trapped, but she felt caught._

_“I don’t think I was hoping for anything,” she said. “Both outcomes weren’t ideal.”_

_She laughed. “No.” A pause. “He died anyway.”_

_“When?” Gowon asked. She didn’t hear any relief in Hyejoo’s voice._

_“Crosa,” Hyejoo said. “We weren’t the only ones who’d wanted our revenge.”_

_And that was after she’d been banished to the mountains, her mind half imprisoned by mental fae._

_“I think it was that fire elf,” she muttered. “Maybe someone else, but I think she’s the only one who melts stone.”_

_“Where’d you hear that?” Gowon wondered if she’d been actively trying to know what was happening. If she’d not been able to stop thinking about what had become of the elf._

_“I was with Haseul when I heard it,” Hyejoo replied. “When she went to the sea.”_

_She nearly stumbled. Hyejoo had gone_ back _there?_

_“They knew who I was,” she went on, “and then they told me.”_

_“Were you,” Gowon started. She didn’t know how to ask that._

_“Honestly,” Hyejoo turned to face her, “I think I was relieved.” She grimaced. “I’ve never hated someone so much. I wanted him to suffer and on that day, I did want him dead.” She was quiet. Her eyes held Gowon’s. “And I could’ve done it. I’d had him.” She fiddled with the handle of the cart she was pushing._

_“But you didn’t,” she said._

_She shook her head. “And I don’t regret it.” The corner of her mouth tilted up. The smile was sad, but it was still warm. Somehow. “You helped me see that.”_

_“I think that was the light.” Gowon looked away. She wondered if Hyejoo was just saying that, trying to convince herself that how things had played out was better._

_“Part of it was,” Hyejoo said._

_She frowned. “But I did what you didn’t.” She’d lost control and killed them. She’d done it out of a rage driven by grief._

_“I know.” She moved away from the cart, only to come to her side. “I know it doesn’t make that much sense either,” she shrugged, “but when you told me what happened, you,” she trailed off. Then she groaned. “I don’t know how to say this.”_

_Gowon elbowed her side. “It’s okay.”_

_“No,” she sighed, “I’m trying to thank you.” Her eyes went from Gowon to the ground, then back. “You made it sound simple when it wasn’t, but that stuck with me. It helped me see I could choose.”_

_Hadn’t she known that already?_

_“Being in that place,” Hyejoo looked at her hands now, “where whatever I do could mean that someone lives or dies, I hate it.” She chewed on her lip. “But you helped me make it.” She glanced up at her. “I don’t think I can explain why, but I just want you to know that you did.”_

_Gowon smiled, feeling an odd lump in her throat. “Good,” she said, her voice shaky._

_The girl opposite her pulled her into an odd side hug, lightly patting her shoulder._

_Gowon had to laugh, before she turned it into a proper hug._

_“I’m serious, Chaewon,” Hyejoo said quietly. “Thank you.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't planning on putting in more flashbacks, but that last part is more of a hybrid (and it's cheating, I know). However, I wanted to give you a bit more insight into how yyxy as a group actually developed. There is a certain hierarchy among the Astra, and that had led to certain people having very little to do with another (usually). I know it's a lot of description, but that's also why I put in flashes from the past in the first place to have a bit of dialogue still. Writing their respective pasts was also painful, but I thought it'd be important to show you where Hyejoo and Chaewon actually started. 
> 
> As for the rest, it's relatively light-hearted compared to the last part. I know that Viseul are mainly just hyping the other up, but they both genuinely deserve it (both in the story world and the real world, because I can't tell you how much I am hoping that Haseul is doing well, but also how much I'm wishing for the girls to enjoy this comeback and be proud of it). 
> 
> When it comes to the external plot of Alluin, this story is slowing down a tad. That being said, I'm focusing on their personal conflicts (+/ plotlines), both with themselves and each other. So I hope you'll look forward to that! 
> 
> Would really be interested in hearing your thoughts on what's been happening so far. I know it can be a lot, some of it rather heavy.


	35. That isn't nothing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, some of you might've already read this chapter, because of that hiccup I had when updating. I've just done a rather large update, which includes about four new chapters at once that came before this one. If you still enjoyed the chapter, I'm glad and it was probably because the specific events of this story were relevant to the characters in question, but not directly to the plot with Alluin (though there are some important pieces). 
> 
> If you're coming without that initial confusion, then this initial note doesn't quite matter. Either way, I hope you enjoy the chapter.

“Jiwoo?” Jungeun’s brow furrowed. “Are you okay?” 

Chuu laughed. Jungeun had nearly died and she was the one concerned. And Chuu hadn’t visited her until now, not properly at least. She’d been asleep every time she’d come. “That’s something we can talk about later.” She smiled at Jinsoul and Yerim who were both sleeping at Jungeun’s side. “Tell me how you are first.”

“Better,” she said, sounding so relieved. It looked as if the weight of the world had left her shoulders. “So much better.” Then the smile on her face faded. She looked to Yerim, then Jinsoul. “But I’m not sure how they’re feeling.” 

“They’re okay,” Chuu replied. Their paths were fine. Jinsoul’s had continually darkened as Jungeun had gotten worse. “Promise.”

Jungeun relaxed, but not much. 

“Yerim told me,” Jungeun said quietly. “You told everyone you were a seer.” 

She nodded. “I’m not even sure if it worked.” All she’d done was reveal the secret she’d been hiding all her life. And it’d probably brought nothing. 

“Maybe it will soon,” she told her, “and someone who might’ve needed to hear it did too.” 

Hyejoo. Someone she’d lied to before about her magic. Someone who’d been a part of her family just as much as her mother was.

“I can tell you now,” Chuu began, “I don’t think she’d realised how much I’d lied.” She remembered the confusion that’d showed through on her face. “So it might just get worse.”

Jungeun’s brow furrowed. “Did you talk to her?”

Out of habit, she looked around. 

But they were only in the tent Jungeun shared with Jinsoul, Yerim, and Hyunjin. And Hyunjin wasn’t even there. 

“Chaewon went to the forest. Hyejoo saw she was there and went to her.” Chuu still didn’t know how she was supposed to see that moment. She’d never been scared of Hyejoo. Those feelings had been left in the past, but she’d been scared of what that encounter would mean for both of them. Chaewon had broken down the moment Hyejoo had been out of sight. 

And Chuu couldn’t forget the way Hyejoo’s expression had been torn between hatred and something very close to desperation. She’d not stopped trying to find out what had happened to Chaewon to make her light look like it did now. 

“How’s Chaewon?” 

Chuu felt a wave of emotion threaten to overcome her. Chaewon’s eyes were still swollen. They still caught her eyes drifting to the space in front of her, shame overflowing in her eyes. 

“Does she need time?” Jungeun asked. “Or company?” 

She could only shake her head. “I don’t know.” Once they’d been able to get through to Chaewon by sheer perseverance. Now, she didn’t know if they’d be helping her or just making everything worse. It clawed at her heart that she didn’t know what to do. 

“Think she’ll want to talk to me?” Jungeun asked. “It’ll take a little bit of convincing, but the healers’ll let me go,” her voice dropped, “but if she’ll feel cornered, I won’t do it.” 

“She’ll feel cornered no matter what you do,” Chuu said. She sat down on the chair beside the bed. It’d probably been for either Yerim or Jinsoul, but neither of them would’ve wanted to be too far away from Jungeun. For obvious reasons. 

She nodded. “I’ll try.” A weak smile. 

Chuu wanted to take her hand. She wished she could hug her. Even if so much of the darkness had been taken away, Jungeun’s still had long shadows stretching far into her present and future. That was why there was a small chance that Chaewon would listen. Whether or not anything came from it, Chuu had no idea. 

“And how’re you?” Jungeun’s smile had faded. “Everything’s a mess right now.”

Chuu laughed, putting a hand to her mouth to stifle it. “I’ve no idea what I’m doing,” she admitted. Tears came to her eyes in that moment. 

Immediately, Jungeun was untangling her arms from the people beside her. She reached over Jinsoul, holding out her hand. 

“I didn’t come here for this.” Chuu tried to wipe the tears away. “Sorry.” She took Jungeun’s hand. The skin was warm, a reminder she needed. There was at least something that’d gone right. 

“It’s okay,” Jungeun squeezed her hand, “these two’ve been sleeping deeply lately.” There was a hint of guilt when she said that. 

She wanted to tell her that whatever she was thinking, it probably wasn’t true. 

She didn’t, because she was the last person to be talking to anyone about guilt. 

“Did you want to talk?” Jungeun asked. “Or just have company?”

“Both?” 

Silence fell. There was a fire burning in the middle of the tent. It’d warmed the entire thing, even though a chill had started to settle in the air. It was very clearly a fire Jungeun had conjured. Normal ones had a hard time keeping the cold out completely, but the fire elf’d managed it. 

“You don’t have to know what to do,” Jungeun said slowly. “It doesn’t even have to work. If you try to talk to her, maybe she’ll shut you out, but that won’t make it worse.” She held Jiwoo’s gaze. “You also can’t think you’re not capable of helping her.” 

Chuu looked away. “It’s worse than before, Jungeun.” She looked at her tear-soaked legs. “Time didn’t help. Nothing I did helped.” 

“That isn’t true.” She sat up, gently easing Yerim’s arm away from her waist. “You got her back to patrols and hunts. You got her back to laughing around the fire.” Her voice dropped in volume. “That isn’t nothing.” There was a flicker of pain across her face. Then it vanished. 

She wanted to tell her she was wrong. She wanted to tell her about the times that Chaewon had gone to the forest to clean those swords, her tears soaking into the dirt as she spent hours _trapped_ in her guilt and self-hatred. 

“And what you always did,” Jungeun folded her other hand over Chuu’s, “was make sure she still felt loved. The three of you didn’t break apart because of what happened.”

“We couldn’t,” Chuu replied. And she would’ve never left Chaewon or Sooyoung alone. Sooyoung wouldn’t have done that either. “It would’ve made things worse for all of us.” All of their other friends had either hated them, or sided with them. And the ones who’d sided with them were wrong. 

“That was something,” Jungeun said, her voice a lot firmer. “That helped all of you through this. You weren’t going to be able to heal that fast, you—” Her grip on Chuu’s hands loosened. 

“We might’ve never healed?” Chuu finished. “I know.” The admission hurt more than she cared to admit. Not only for Chaewon, but Sooyoung as well. It was different from grief, because it hadn’t been inevitable. The wounds had been made by their mistakes. 

The look in Jungeun’s eyes broke, but she was clearly trying to keep it hidden. It made Chuu feel worse, but it reminded her that few understood this better than Jungeun. Even though it would’ve been better had Jungeun _not_ been able to understand. 

“You just have to make it bearable,” Jungeun whispered. 

Her eyes were burning again, threatening to overflow again. 

“I’m sorry,” Jungeun said. Before Chuu could even start to ask her what the hell she meant by that, she continued, “we should’ve just left you alone after. We just made it all worse.” She wasn’t looking away, but the shame was so clear in her eyes. Normally, she hid that. 

“Don’t say sorry for what happened,” Chuu said. She still remembered the disgust in their eyes. She remembered the barely concealed fury in Jungeun’s eyes and the rage that’d been burning in Haseul. She remembered the hatred that Heejin had sent their way. “You weren’t wrong to do it.” 

Jungeun shook her head. “They weren’t. I was.” Her mouth trembled as she smiled. “You’re still one of the most important people in my life, Jiwoo,” she said. “And I did that to you, to Sooyoung.” Her jaw tightened. “And to Chaewon.” 

Chuu tried to think of what she could say to reassure her. Jungeun had always known what to say, but Chuu’s mind was still fogged with emotions. 

“Don’t try to tell me I’m wrong,” she lifted a hand, “because I know I’m right this time. Haseul and Heejin knew Hyejoo like a sister. She was—is my friend, but so are you.” She closed her eyes. “I should’ve been there for you.” Her voice was shaky. “I’m here now. For all of you.” 

That held a lot of weight. It was more than a reassurance. It was a promise. 

Chuu looked to the two girls still sleeping. ‘All of you’ meant them. It would probably mean Yeojin too. 

But it also meant Chuu, Sooyoung, and Chaewon. 

Somehow, that meant more to Chuu than any apology. She was still shocked that Jungeun would still be thinking about that night, a night when she’d been taking out her anger on the people who’d most deserved it. And Jungeun had been there for her after. It’d taken a few years, but Jungeun had broken the distance that’d been between her and the three of them. She’d come back to camp one night, stopped by their fire, and told them about a new vampire coven that’d been forced from their home. She’d told them Sooyoung was going to have to see for herself if they were dangerous, that the other two needed to come, and she’d be with them. 

It’d been straight to the point, it’d caught them all off guard, but it’d been the start to mending one of the many broken bridges. 

“You were there for us,” Chuu said. She stood and pulled Jungeun in for a very awkwardly positioned hug. “It doesn’t matter that it was later, but you were.” She was careful not to pull on any of her injuries. “I was prepared to never talk to any of you again.” She pulled away. “And all I ended up getting was a few scratches on that day.” 

Jungeun gave her a look and a strained chuckle. Tears had started to seep out of her eyes. “Don’t underplay that.” 

“I will when you stop joking around every time you get mauled by a werewolf.” 

The corner of her lip tugged up. “Those’re my best.” 

Chuu gently swatted her arm before sitting back down. She felt lighter. Her head was hurting, and she still couldn’t forget the look in Hyejoo’s eyes, or the pain in Chaewon’s sobs, but she could smile. 

_____

Jinsoul was good at pretending to sleep. A lot of the time, the people who’d needed the most supervision, _hated_ if they knew they were being watched over. It reassured them so much more if the other people in the room were distracted, or just sleeping. 

So Jinsoul stayed where she was now, listening to Jungeun’s steady heartbeat, as well as the soft conversation between the two of them. 

She almost wished she could force herself to fall asleep. She was hearing things she knew Jiwoo wouldn’t want others to hear. 

But she knew that waking up would mean she’d leave the tent to give them their privacy. 

She didn’t want to leave Jungeun’s side. 

It might’ve been one of the most childish things she’d ever been, but the thought of leaving Jungeun’s side for longer than an hour reminded her of the worst moments of the past weeks. 

Weeks. This had all started in the past weeks. Vivi had come only a month ago, maybe two. They’d gone from barely knowing about Hyejoo’s situation to having her back in camp. Yerim had finally told her she was a seer. Jungeun had gone from being completely unharmed to a breath away from death. 

Their lives had all changed. And Jinsoul prayed that the moon would let them all change for the better. 

But now, she wanted nothing more than to take Jungeun and Jiwoo into her arms. She was far from being good with her words. She relied on showing reassurances instead of saying them. 

She wanted to tell Jiwoo that things would be alright, that she’d be there for them too, and that she didn’t blame them anymore. 

Jinsoul knew why Jiwoo had come here. Even if she hadn’t ever tried to comfort someone with as much guilt as Chaewon had, Jungeun knew guilt like that. Jinsoul knew it probably wasn’t the main reason Jiwoo was coming here—it probably hadn’t even been a conscious decision, but this was something Jungeun would understand. For better or worse, Jungeun also knew self-loathing well. 

That realisation stung, but it also made her heart ache for Chaewon too. She still didn’t understand how Chaewon had done that to Hyejoo, how she’d turned away from her—but she knew that if Chaewon had had some moment of clarity then, or someone to bring her back to reality, she’d have never made that decision. 

Something had gone horribly wrong and Chaewon thought she was the sole reason for it. She was _one_ reason for it, but Jinsoul knew that didn’t matter to her. The same applied to Jiwoo. She was just hiding how much everything was affecting her, focusing instead on keeping Chaewon from drowning in her own guilt. Sooyoung was definitely not much different. 

“But is there something I can say to her?” Jiwoo broke the silence. She sounded so tired. “Anything I could do to help her? _Actually_ do.” 

Jungeun was quiet. Jinsoul knew exactly the expression that she had on. She also knew there’d be a flicker of anguish, but one she’d hide. Jungeun had always been good at hiding what she really felt, but she wasn’t always good at keeping the cracks from her expression. 

“What did you do the first time?” she finally asked. 

“We didn’t let her sleep alone,” Jiwoo replied. “We put the bedroll away and some other things, but,” she paused, “she didn’t let us get rid of some things.” 

Meaning Chaewon hadn’t wanted to forget. 

“What did she let you do?” Jungeun shifted ever so slightly. Her fingers brushed across Jinsoul’s side, lingering there. “She let you be there, but she didn’t talk about it?”

There was a silence, but Jinsoul heard the slightest amount of shifting. Jiwoo had probably shaken her head. 

“Sooyoung tried once, but she got angry.” She sighed. “And it’s happening again now, but worse.” 

“What does it look like?” Jungeun asked. 

Jinsoul had no idea what that meant. She waited for Jiwoo to reply. 

“It changes,” Jiwoo muttered. “Sometimes it’s completely black. Sometimes there’re pieces of grey in it, or even threads of silver, but that’s it. It’s—it’s,” she took a deep breath, “it’s always going to Hyejoo, but it never reaches her.” 

The meaning of those words flooded her with dread. They’d had a bond. 

And it was gone. 

“She doesn’t have the other piece?” 

“No,” Jiwoo said. “At least I don’t see anything. Maybe she does and I can’t see that—maybe she’s hiding it, or—” 

“Jiwoo,” Jungeun broke her off, “you don’t have to know everything about this. Most people barely understand bonds that’re intact.” 

It was quiet then. 

“Is there anything that helps her?” Jungeun asked. “Was Dahyun able to take some of the pain?” 

“Yeah,” she said. “But she gave her the brightest of the emotions. She’s not going to be able to feel that now.” 

“Then we could ask for more,” Jungeun replied. “And maybe her being here again could be good for Hyejoo too.” 

“Darie won’t understand,” Jiwoo mumbled. “She got a headache just trying to understand why the bonds even exist, let alone why we think they’re important.”

Jinsoul felt Jungeun laugh. She wondered if that was because she was the same. She didn’t know what to make of that. 

“She’ll understand why it hurts.” The amusement had left Jungeun’s voice. “Even if she doesn’t understand what happened, she might know what Chaewon’s feeling better than she does, maybe even the same with Hyejoo.” The hand on Jinsoul’s back stilled. “She understood what was happening to me.” 

Jinsoul felt a surge of worry then. It was coming from Jungeun. 

“That isn’t the same,” Jiwoo said, her voice a bit stronger now. “She took the darkness away, yes, but she had much more light left in her. And whatever did go to her heart isn’t there anymore.”

They were talking about her. 

“I told her not to take it,” Jungeun’s thumb was drawing light circles, “what if Hyejoo hadn’t come? What if she’d taken too much?” 

She was asking the wrong questions. 

“She was never in the same place you were.” There was movement. Jiwoo was probably leaning forward. “She could afford to take that. She _needed_ to take that from you.”

“What if it hadn’t worked?” Jungeun’s sounded a bit sharper. “What if I’d died and she’d have had to live with what she’d taken?” 

“That didn’t happen,” she said calmly. “Neither of you have to live with that darkness.” When Jungeun started to say something, Jiwoo didn’t let her. “You were dying,” her voice didn’t waver, “if you think she would’ve let that happen without trying everything to stop it, then you don’t understand how much you mean to her.” 

Jinsoul was stunned at Jiwoo’s words. She was also so grateful that someone else was telling Jungeun things like this—that someone else could keep her head from descending into yet another mess of guilt and doubt. 

“And don’t even try to argue with me, because I know you’d do the same for her and if anyone tried to tell you to stop, you’d never listen.”

Jungeun didn’t reply, but Jinsoul knew she was trying to think of a counter. 

“That’s another thing,” Jungeun muttered. Her hand moved to Jinsoul’s arm, lightly tracing the skin there. “I want to do the same, but I can’t.” Her fingers were shaky. “I can’t take her pain away. I can’t heal her if she’s hurt—I tried that, you know, but the healing runes don’t even help.” 

It took everything not to take Jungeun’s hand then. It took even more to not tell her she was wrong. 

“Stop.” Jiwoo sounded frustrated. “Just because you can’t help her one way, doesn’t mean you haven’t helped her. Do you forget everything else you’ve done when you get like this?” She sighed. “If Jinsoul heard you, she’d be able to list off _everything_ you’ve done for her. I could talk for an hour about a fraction of those things.” 

Jungeun was still quiet. 

“Why can’t you see that?” Jiwoo asked. “That’s far from being humble, and it’s not you being considerate to her either.” 

Jinsoul felt Jungeun’s hurt at that, but also how she deflated. She knew Jiwoo was right. Whether or not she’d take it into account was a different question. 

“Sooyoung’ll be back soon,” Jiwoo said. “She took Chaewon on patrol.” By the sound of it, she’d stood up. “Thank you, Jungie,” it sounded like she was smiling, “I’m here for you too, you know.” 

“Yeah,” Jungeun said. “I know.”

“Just,” Jiwoo was further away now, “don’t forget about yourself.” A pause. “And when I say that, I don’t mean the shadows.” 

It was quiet when she left, save for the fire. It started to get warmer. 

Beside her, Jungeun stayed where she was. 

Jinsoul wished she could just ‘wake up’ and take her into her arms. 

But she also knew that Jungeun needed this time to think. She also couldn’t give away that she hadn’t been sleeping. 

She heard Jungeun breathe in deeply, before slowly letting it out. She was either trying to clear her head, or trying not to cry. 

This wasn't unusual. Over the years, Jinsoul had heard Jungeun wake up, only to spend the rest of the day thinking. At first, Jinsoul had just pretended to keep sleeping, occasionally hearing Jungeun get up and leaving the tent, or tossing and turning. 

As time went on, she’d gotten up and spent the day with her. Sometimes it was obvious when Jungeun didn’t want someone around, but other times she hid it. Jinsoul was still learning, but whenever she wasn’t sure, she didn’t go to her. Jungeun had never shut off to the point of being cold, unless that’d been the darkness taking hold of her. 

But she started feeling trapped if someone tried reaching out to her too fast, or making her speak her mind when she hadn't even made sense of her own thoughts. Jungeun feeling trapped was something Jinsoul always wanted to avoid. It didn't take much, and sometimes Jungeun pulled away when she should've been opening up. Finding that balance was hard as well, but Jinsoul was learning how to find it. 

Jungeun shifted then. She laid down. She didn’t move anymore, but it was exactly the kind of silence that came when she was thinking. 

She didn’t stop thinking after an hour. 

Jinsoul turned around, one of her bones cracking. She groaned. 

Jungeun let out a soft huff of a laugh. 

She didn’t open her eyes, but she moved her arm, settling it over Jungeun’s abdomen. 

To her relief, she felt Jungeun relax. 

They stayed like that for a long time. Jinsoul couldn’t fall asleep. Her mind was filled with what both Jungeun and Jiwoo had said. How much there was still left to solve. 

And she could still feel pieces of what Jungeun was feeling, even as her breath finally slowed to the lull that came with sleep. She could feel her doubt and worry, but also relief. There was also something else, but couldn’t place the feeling. It felt warm. Familiar too. 

______

Yeojin saw Yerim filling two bowls, each of them held aloft by a tablet of earth. 

She spotted her. The smile that came was tired. She looked it too. 

And it wasn’t worrying, but Yeojin wasn’t really reassured either. 

“You’re up late,” Yerim said. 

“So’re you.” 

She chuckled. “I know, but,” she shrugged, “our schedules are pretty out of it.”

“Does it change back so quickly?”

Yerim shrugged again. “Jinsoul says it’s natural. The rest of you are mentally awake in the dark. People like us aren’t.” 

It sounded like there was a double meaning to that, but Yeojin had no idea what the second would be. 

“How’re you feeling?” Yeojin asked. 

Yerim’s brow rose. Then she smiled. “I’m good,” she said. “Jinsoul and Jungeun,” her voice faltered for a moment, “they’re both okay now. They’ll both have to heal, but they will.” A short pause. “We all will.”

“Does that light still affect you?” 

“No,” she said. “Hyejoo took it.” She looked around. “It’s something else.” 

Just the way that was said, Yeojin felt cold. 

“I still can’t control any light,” Yerim said. “The rest works,” she sighed, “I don’t know why, but it doesn’t work.”

Pause. 

Yerim grabbed both bowls. The dirt platforms crumbled. Either one of the other two was asleep, or Yerim wasn’t hungry. Yeojin wasn’t sure if she should even ask that. 

So she asked something else. “Are you worried?” 

She shook her head. “I’m lucky enough that I’ve got my other magic,” Yerim said. “Not everyone gets that.” She looked somewhere else, a frown on her face. 

“If you need help,” Yeojin said, “you can always tell me.”

Yerim nodded once. “Same here. If you need me.”

Then she was going off. Yeojin nearly went after her, but she held back. It was hard to tell with Yerim when she wanted to be left alone and when not.

But there was something else too. Something else was brewing, not just with Yerim. It was more than a little unsettling. And she was worried. 

______

“Where’re you planning on going?” Vivi asked. “I mean, we.” 

Haseul grimaced. “This’s where you’ll tell me if you’re coming with me or not,” she said. “We’re first going to the witch. Then I’m going after Alluin’s people.”

The words felt like a blow to her sternum. “You’re what?”

“Well,” she looked away, “not directly, because his entire camp could kill me, or he’d be able to do it.” She shrugged. “I’m trying to find any followers he’s sent out.” Her expression looked put on, too poised. Was she trying to seem confident? 

“People he’s made sure hate people like you.” Vivi really didn’t like that idea, let alone the fact that Haseul was doing this without an actual team. “Wait,” it struck her, “was that last patrol also a search?” 

“Yes and no,” Haseul said. “We’ve got a lot to do for the mortals, but I did follow a trail here and there.” One that'd clearly left her drained, both of light and energy. 

“You followed it,” she repeated. And Haseul had been completely on her own, barely giving the rest notice. They wouldn’t have known if she was in trouble until it was too late. 

“Yeah,” Haseul frowned at her, “and don’t start trying to convince me not to.” Some bite had crept into her voice. Instead of a poised expression, she was starting to look trapped. 

“It’s not like you’d listen,” Vivi said. “But,” she tried to gather the words, “Haseul, that’s something with a lot out of your control. And it just takes one thing going wrong and then you’re either a prisoner or left dying on the ground. Or in the river.”

“You’re describing normal life there.”

It was an attempt at a joke, one used to evade. 

“I understand why you want to go,” Vivi said. “But going alone is more than a risk. It wouldn’t even be a surprise if you didn’t come back.”

Haseul winced. That was at least a sign she was listening. “And who do you think’d agree to this?” she asked, her voice sharp. “I don’t _want_ more people! I know some of his followers will be like Hanna, but others’ll be like the lightning wielder. Or worse,” she spat. Then she dropped her gaze again, regret clear in her eyes. She was blaming herself for something, taking on a responsibility she didn't have to bear. 

“But is there anyone you _would_ take?” Vivi asked. 

When she spoke, her voice was softer. “Well I agreed to you coming,” she said. “But because of what I _just_ said, if you don’t come, that’ll be fine with me.” A pause. “But Sooyoung can’t come because she needs to be with Chaewon. I’m not sending Hyejoo after people who’d _taken_ her in, and there’s no chance Jungeun or Hyunjin could come after what they’ve been through.”

“And Yeojin?”

The response was immediate. “No.”

“Because she’s too young?” 

“She’s never been in a situation like this,” Haseul snapped. Then her expression softened. “Sorry.”

That was another thing Vivi was learning about her: Haseul always managed to reign herself in, her feelings. As an elder, in negotiations, that was probably perfect. But between the two of them, it didn’t fit. 

“If ‘like this’ means cruelty, then you’re wrong,” Vivi said. “I don’t know much about her life, but she was there when Hyejoo was banished.”

As usual, the thought of her made Haseul look away, even though Hyejoo had come back. 

“And she saw what he’d done to that mortal,” she went on. “She saw that, and if the worst does happen to this camp, sheltering her would be a mistake.”

“That’s not sheltering her,” Haseul shot back. “And don’t tell me this’d be something to _prepare_ her for later, because Jungeun trained all her life.” Then she kept going, not letting her say something. “She fought when she was sick, when she’d been freezing—when she was bleeding out, just so she’d still be able to fight at her worst.” She ran a hand through her hair, her eyes welling up with tears. “And she still almost lost this time.”

Vivi took a moment to process that. It made sense why the rest were so adamant that Jungeun needed rest. It also made her think back to when Jungeun had defended Hanna. She’d nearly killed the other elf, while being left on the brink of death herself, but she’d insisted that she live. Most others wouldn’t have objected to an execution, not even Jinsoul or Yerim. Especially not them. 

“You can’t make Jungeun the standard,” Vivi finally said. “Hyejoo wasn’t chosen to fight like she was, nor Hyunjin, and neither was I.” She resisted the urge to reach out and wipe those tears away. “And I don’t think you were either.”

Haseul shook her head. “Don’t do that,” she whispered. “Don’t make me feel like a fool.” A tear rolled down her face. She put her face in her hands. 

“It’s not a bad thing,” she replied. “Not always.”

“Great,” she lifted her head, “you actually do think I’m being an idiot.” Even though there were tears on her face, she looked harsh. She threw up her hands, turning away. Her step was faster now. 

Vivi quickened her own pace. ”It’s because you’re ignoring something.”

Haseul stopped, turning on her. “If you say I’m not thinking about my safety, you can stay here.” Her eyes burned with anger. “There’ve been many times where I could’ve not come back, but every time I left, I was actually doing _something_ that helped us.” She took a step forward. “Wasting time discussing who’s a risk, who’s in danger, and who isn’t gets us nowhere.” She narrowed her eyes. “And if the reason I should stay behind is that I’ll be their leader in a hundred years, someone else can have my place.”

By the way she said it, Vivi knew Haseul had been thinking about this for a long time. Had it started with Hyejoo's banishment? Or before then? 

“And what about the people who’d want to help you?”

She didn’t respond.

“I’ll not go if you don’t want me with you.” Vivi took a step back. “But I need you to know that your responsibilities aren’t just keeping the others safe.” She let the silence hang for a few seconds, leaving time for a retort. It didn’t come. “You’re a friend to many, already a leader to even more, and you have an understanding about a lot of things others don’t.”

“Like what?” She still sounded frustrated, but the actual sharpness was leaving her words. “Because I can give you a list of people who have all of that, and they took those same risks.” 

“But they aren’t you.”

Haseul’s eyes filled with surprise. Then confusion. 

Vivi knew she’d just stepped onto a sensitive topic, but she’d already been walking along some _very_ unsteady grounds tonight. A few more steps weren’t going to hurt. Much. 

“You’re one of the only people Hyejoo can trust with her life and you can get through to her too,” Vivi said. “You’re as good as a sister to Yeojin and the one thing she’s been wanting is for something she does to matter.” She wondered if any of that was getting through to Haseul. “You’ve been the one to help Jungeun, Jinsoul, and the others feel like they have a home here.”

“I only actually helped Jungeun. She was the one who took care of the rest,” she sighed, “but it was difficult each time.”

“If more come, both of you will be needed. Especially if you’re always swapping the person who’s putting their life at risk.” 

To her surprise, but also relief, Haseul cracked a smile. “Sooyoung’ll also be there this time. Jinsoul and Yerim too.” But even that was said with a bit of hesitation. 

“But you were there for me.” Vivi felt a weight lift from her chest saying that. A new one replaced it. Had she said too much? Or not enough? 

“I still am,” she said quietly. 

_Not if you’re gone_. 

It looked like Haseul realised the same thing. She turned her head away, teeth digging into her lip. She didn't looked trapped anymore, but she did look exhausted. Again. 

“I want to go with you,” Vivi continued. “But this,” she waved at the forest, whatever path’s going to appear better be one that you considered, and one that you’ll be careful on.” _And all for the right reasons_ , she added. Saying it would be something for another day. Or never. 

Haseul was looking at her with that same look from before—one filled with frustration, but held back by the tenderness she naturally had. 

Finally, she broke the silence. “I’ll ask Yeojin.” Then she started walking back to camp. 

The tension in her stomach eased. 

“Don’t be smug yet,” Haseul elbowed her, “you don’t even know what she’ll say.”

“I do.”

Vivi laughed as she dodged the sharp elbow thrown her way. 

Haseul laughed as well. 

The sound filled her with pride, and a warmth like the light they controlled. That weight was still in her chest, but with the new sense of lightness, she didn’t mind it. 

______

“Did you eat?” Jungeun asked. She was looking from her plate to Jinsoul, a frown slowly starting to form. It was probably the way she'd looked earlier, while talking to Jiwoo. 

What'd been said then still drifted in and out of her head. 

Jinsoul nodded before she was finished making that face. “You were sleeping when I did.” She’d realised their own sleep schedules had become mismatched. She needed so much sleep now, while Jinsoul was left exhausted by the time Jungeun woke up. 

“Oh,” she shook the first bite, “I’m sleeping a lot.” The frown came back. “Is that supposed to be normal?” She fiddled with her fork. 

“Your body’s been under pressure for weeks,” Jinsoul said. _Maybe years_ , she thought. “Same with your mind,” she tapped her cheek, “of course it’s normal.”

Jungeun kept eating. There was a very clear relief all across her features. The weight that’d been on her shoulders had lifted and the change was noticeable. 

Jinsoul loved it. Even though there were other burdens, ones Jungeun still hadn't been able to free herself of, she was healthy again. And to see Jungeun bright again, so relaxed—it felt like a gift. 

Then Jungeun caught her eye. She smiled at her. Jinsoul was once again struck by her beauty. 

Then it came again, a gentle ache in her chest. 

“You’re sleeping enough, right?” Jungeun shifted her food around. “You also need time to rest.”

“Don’t worry about me,” she nodded at her plate, “eat.”

She raised a brow. “I’m going to worry,” she replied. “And I’ll stop once _you_ don’t look exhausted.” 

Jinsoul didn’t answer, choosing instead to prop up her chin and watch her eat. 

She still felt cold, but that was nothing compared to everything that’d come before this. There might’ve been a strange, separate pain that felt like the hole in her heart, but that was alright. Jungeun was right there. Healed. They'd be able to figure out the rest. Maybe not tonight, or tomorrow, but soon. 

“What’re you thinking about?”

Jinsoul smiled. “What makes you so sure I’m thinking?”

Jungeun laughed, shaking her head. Her red eyes were sparkling again. 

The memory of dark grey eyes came to her then. She felt a small surge of panic. 

She blinked and there were Jungeun’s jewelled red eyes again. They were filled with concern. 

“Everything okay?” 

Jinsoul nodded. “Just got distracted,” she replied. Then she reached over and took her hand. Her skin was warm. Finally. “I’m so happy,” she said. “Really happy.” 

A broad smile broke out across her face, her gaze filled with a relieved joy. 

How Jinsoul was able to get a smile like that still annoyed her—that _she_ was someone who could make Jungeun happy. 

The ache got stronger. 

“Good,” Jungeun said softly. “I mean, great.” She looked away. “It’s just,” she pursed her lips, “it's really great to hear that.” She squeezed her hand. 

Jinsoul could’ve leaned in then and there, but she held herself back. Again. 

The realisation struck her then. She didn’t want to hold back what she felt anymore. 

That didn’t mean she’d stop giving her space. She still needed to. She couldn’t shove Jungeun into anything, especially if she wasn’t ready. 

But she needed to make sure Jungeun knew what she felt. They’d been trading so very carefully around in murky waters for years. They were both supposed to know how each of them felt. Jinsoul didn’t really hide it. She couldn’t. 

She was also quite sure that Jungeun had let some of that slip through as well. 

But even then, Jinsoul was still doubtful. Had anything changed? Had they left the murky waters and strayed closer to the shore now? She barely even knew what that shore looked like. 

“Can we go to the river?” Jungeun asked. 

Jinsoul looked at her. “You want to go there?” She thought of Jungeun collapsing in the forest, of her eyes losing their colour by the river. 

Concern flooded her features. “We don’t have to,” she said hurriedly. “I thought you’d want me to be there. Clear your head.” 

“Oh,” Jinsoul nodded, “yeah.” She could still feel the darkness she’d taken from Jungeun, even though Hyejoo had already taken it. She still felt the sharp pain in her chest. She remembered the moment Jungeun had started to fade away. “What about the pond?” It wasn't nearly as peaceful as the river, but it was closer to the camp. And _not_ by the river. 

Immediately, Jungeun nodded, getting to her feet. 

“We’re walking slow,” Jinsoul told her. 

“I know,” she nodded again, “let’s check on Yerim first.” 

Jinsoul followed her as they walked, their fingers still loosely connected. She walked a bit faster just to close the remaining distance there. 

“I hope _she’s_ sleeping,” Jungeun muttered. “Not dreaming,” she added. 

Right, Yerim also got visions of the future. Not that often, if she’d understood it right. 

And if she got flashes of the past as well—

“I hope so too,” Jinsoul said. 

They reached their tent, only to see Hyunjin and Yerim sitting across from one another. 

Hyunjin jumped, but Yerim only smiled. 

“We’re going to the pond,” Jinsoul said. 

Yerim nodded. She already knew. 

“How’re you feeling?” Hyunjin asked. “Both of you.”

“Good,” Jinsoul looked at Jungeun, “both of us.”

Hyunjin nodded, a small smile on her face. Her eyes were a bit dim. Even though she still had light. 

“Yeah,” her smile faded, “but Yerim said she can’t control the light either.” She looked between them. “Any idea if that’s supposed to happen or not?” It became clear then that both their eyes were dim. 

Jinsoul just shook her head. “It could be that your magic was exhausted. That can happen.” Either through overuse, trauma, or immense pain—sometimes all three. 

“It happened to me a lot,” Jungeun said then. “Not just with the light.” Her eyes flicked once to Jinsoul’s. When she looked away, she spotted the beginnings of shame there. “It came back, but not because one problem got fixed. I had to be completely back to normal first.”

“So you’re saying we’re still odd?” Yerim lifted a brow. Jungeun winked. “Aeong.”

Hyunjin tossed a grape at her. 

Jungeun caught it, chewing on it, amusement glittering in her eyes. 

“Go to your pond,” Hyunjin muttered. “Take all the time you need.” A smirk. 

When they left, Jinsoul knew she wasn’t imagining the red lining Jungeun’s ears. It’d been a while since she’d seen that. 

______

“You think they’ll actually talk?” Hyunjin asked. “You can’t see that, right?” 

Choerry shook her head. She’d told her about the sight, also that it’d come back to her before the light had. 

Amazingly, Hyunjin had barely batted an eye. “But if you ever try saving my life again,” she’d said, “you better let me help.”

She shrugged. “I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

A light hit on her arm. “I’m serious. Your spirit saved you. I’m not letting you become a team of one here.”

Choerry smiled. “I’m not.” She had Jungeun and Jinsoul still. Hyunjin was also by her side. And Hyejoo was back. She wasn’t sure where Yeojin stood, but she was there. Chuu as well. 

An something they all had in common was that they all knew her secret. At first, Choerry’d wanted nothing more than to hide that. She’d managed fine with just Chuu and Jungeun knowing. 

But she felt so much more at peace with the future, knowing she could share it if the others asked. They knew well enough not to constantly ask her, so that helped. 

“Have you seen the—Hypnos?” Hyunjin asked. 

“Not lately,” she said. “But he’s always close.” Sometimes he went somewhere else, probably because another spirit was near. 

“Is he still with, you know, both light and dark?”

Choerry nodded. 

“Aeong is too,” then she snorted, “that sounds dumb.” Then she turned serious again. “I feel like that stuff’s connected,” she said. 

“Hypnos and Aeong?”

Hyunjin grimaced. “I know it sounds weird, but were you able to call on the light after he shifted from dark to light?”

Choerry’s stomach flipped just thinking about it. “And yours stopped after the cat?” She frowned. “But we were both hurt before that.”

She nodded. “I’ve been hurt before, so has Jungeun and a lot of others, but did they ever lose the light for this long?”

Choerry tried to think about one. There must’ve been one. 

“Or it comes back next week,” Hyunjin shrugged, “I’m hoping for that, but I don’t know.” She bit her lip. “It feels like it’s not there for me. At all.” 

Choerry knew full well that this was worrying Hyunjin a lot more than it looked. She had her earth magic, the sight too, but Hyunjin only had the light. Without that, she had only a few spells here and there. 

“But I got the sight back,” Choerry said. “That means the connection to the moon’s still there.”

Hyunjin smiled, but it was weak. “That’s why I’m not panicking yet.”

She took her hand, squeezing it once. “Have you seen Aeong since then?”

“Once,” she said. “She came up to me for a minute, wanting a scratch n his head.” Her brow furrowed. “I just don’t get it, how that worked.”

Choerry wasn’t sure anyone knew that. 

“We could try finding them,” she said. “Once I’m allowed to leave camp.”

Hyunjin snorted. “Since when’re you following the rules?”

“It’s actually great,” she lightly kicked her, “you should try it.”

The atmosphere fell into something more comfortable.

Then Choerry noticed something. She felt something familiar with Hyunjin. It was like what she’d felt with Hypnos, Hyejoo, and even Gowon, though that was rare. 

She wondered what the connection was between all of them. Or if there was one at all. She couldn't see it, only feel the change. It didn't have to do with the light, or lack thereof, that they had. It also didn't have anything to do with what they'd all experienced, because Hyunjin's experience was _nothing_ like Gowon's. It made no sense, but that didn't mean the connection didn't exist. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of things happened in this chapter. At one point, I'd thought it'd be too much, but there's a lot of 'little moments' I need to happen. 
> 
> That being said, Haseul and Vivi's conversation was not a little moment. I feel like they've probably been left at the sidelines a bit, as well as Yeojin. Sadly, with twelve characters, putting them all at the forefront is extremely difficult. I love Yeojin's character, but to consistently write chapters for her would one, really extend the already long word count of this story, and two, force there to be plot-lines that aren't quite feeding into the story. The way I write, I've usually had certain scenes in mind from weeks to months ago and want to lead up to them. Or, I've opened the document, think about which character's next, or which arc needs development, and that comes to me.
> 
> At the very beginning, I was writing scenes from all over the story. The flashback chapter for Hyejoo's banishment was written at the same time her reunion with yyxy was written. Multiple scenes between Jinsoul and Jungeun were written around the same time, because there was a clear thread I needed to follow, as well as keeping up with how the darkness was slowly taking hold. 
> 
> My biggest hope is that this story is comprehensive and engaging, despite the large cast. Threads from seven to eight chapters ago are really coming into play now and I've got to say I'm really excited, but also a little nervous. 
> 
> If you've got any predictions, I'd love to read them. Seeing your thoughts on the story, be they about what's happened or what might happen, make me enormously happy and even more excited to keep writing. 
> 
> Times are currently quite tense and there's a balance to be had when it comes to reality and the outlets you may have (if you can't tell, mine is writing). However, I wish you all the best in what comes going forward and if this story, or any other has been able to give you some comfort, then I'm glad. 
> 
> Hope you're all doing well. See you next chapter. 


	36. Like me

Jungeun saw the moment the water began to flow towards Jinsoul. There were small ripples in its surface, while the edges of the pond rose up the sides of the ground, rising higher the closer Jinsoul got. 

Her pull on the element was less prominent than Yerim’s, but still noticeable, if you knew what to look for. 

Jungeun knew she pulled on fire, but much more when she was angry. If she unconsciously pulled on the flames, it usually wasn’t a good thing. 

Jinsoul insisted they make a fire now. 

“This’s about the water,” Jungeun protested. “You like the silence, you like it like this.” She waved at the night before them. 

“If it’s me enjoying myself,” Jinsoul pulled her down to the ground with her, “then we need a fire as well.”

“Are you cold?” Jungeun asked, letting the air around them warm. It’d taken a while to manage that, but she was able to do it gradually now. 

“Not really,” she replied. “I’ve got you here.” A pause. “But you feel better when you’re near one.”

Jungeun felt the beginnings of a smile forming. Of course Jinsoul would tell her something like that.

“I'll make the fire later,” Jungeun replied. “But until then,” she opened her arms, “come here.” 

The smile she got in return made the breath in her lungs catch. 

Jinsoul moved closer, wrapping her own arms around Jungeun’s waist. The sound she made then almost sounded like a giggle. “You’re warm.” She tightened her grip. 

Jungeun tried to slow her breathing. She couldn’t do anything for her heart, but she tried to keep calm. Being so close to Jinsoul still made that ache stronger. That made her even more aware of what was happening. It also replaced the original pain. 

“You’re glowing too,” Jinsoul pulled away slightly, her eyes scanning her face, “you don’t know how much I needed to see that.” Then her brow rose. “Also for you to be okay—you know—for you as well.” She looked away. “And that you’d feel like yourself again.” Only when she blinked did Jungeun see a tear slide down her cheek. 

“This better be a happy tear,” she said, wiping it away. 

Then lips pressed to her forehead and temple. “Sorry.” 

The ache twisted, crawling into her throat. She wanted to pull away. She also wanted to stay where she was. Her skin felt like it was burning. It was almost ironic. 

“We’ve spent the whole day and night together.” Jungeun forced a laugh. “And pretty soon, you’ll get sick of how warm I am.”

She shook her head, a smile forming. It faded immediately after. A distant look came over her. It was framed by exhaustion. 

“What is it?” Jungeun asked. 

Jinsoul shook her head. “It’s not fair,” she said. “You’ll only—” She faltered. “I can’t—”

“Just tell me,” she brushed their foreheads together, “it’s okay.”

Silence. Jinsoul was looking between her and the pond. When she looked back to Jungeun, there was something even more vulnerable in her gaze. 

“When I saw you in the forest, I thought you were dead.” Her blue eyes were still glassy. “And then when you said you couldn’t see, I felt you—you were gone.” The next tears fell. They had a pale blue sheen, like dull sapphires made liquid. 

Jungeun pulled her closer. Jinsoul’s head settled on her shoulder. The tears still flowed, but Jinsoul let them. So Jungeun didn’t say anything else. Sometimes she just had to be silent. Jinsoul usually managed to get herself out of whatever she was falling into. Sometimes she needed to be alone, other times she needed someone beside her. 

Jungeun could felt the tension slowly leave the other girl. She ran a hand through her hair. 

She knew Jinsoul wouldn’t be letting go of her any time soon, so she kept lightly massaging her head. 

It took a few minutes, but the tears eventually stopped, but Jinsoul’s breathing was still shaky. The fear from before was back, along with some echoes of grief. That alone made Jungeun hold her tighter.

She didn’t know what she could say. 

_I’ll never leave you_ wouldn’t ever work. She was immortal, but she could still die. She could still lose. So often luck had been at her side, either her opponent had been slightly weaker, or distracted by their own emotions. Or she’d reached the healer in time. 

Or Jinsoul had come to her in time. 

_You don’t even know what’s happening! I’m supposed to be dead by now._

Jungeun didn’t want to think about how Jinsoul had felt in that moment. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. 

Jinsoul pulled away immediately, her eyes suddenly hard. “Don’t say—”

“I have to.” Jungeun took her hand. The skin was warmer, but still cool. Like it always was. “I gave up.” She remembered pushing herself through a snow storm, her magic gone and her breathing slow. She’d been so tempted to just let the storm take her. 

And that’d been exactly the reason why she’d kept going. 

The only reason she’d survived that was the search party that’d been sent out for her. Her father had feared her being caught in the snow. He’d been right. 

“And I shouldn’t have,” Jungeun said. “Everything I told you then, I meant it. And I wish I hadn’t said any of it.”

“It’s okay,” Jinsoul whispered. "You didn't want me to get hurt." She leaned forward so their heads were leaning on one another. She’d closed her eyes, before she sighed. “I heard you and Jiwoo. Earlier.”

She wanted to be surprised, but she actually wasn’t. She did wish she could take some of the things she’d said back, but it was too late for that. 

“Nosy.” She aimed a light jab at her side. 

Jinsoul shook her head, opening her eyes. “I shouldn’t have—”

“‘Soul,” Jungeun said. “It’s fine.” She smiled at her. “You know what I was— _am_ afraid of, you can tell me too.”

She looked at her, not saying anything. It was a gaze Jungeun couldn’t hold. She busied herself instead with their linked hands. 

“The way I help is my magic,” Jinsoul said. “Healing.” Her voice wasn’t shaky anymore. “I didn’t know how to help you. Whatever I did, it wasn’t helping.” 

“You were able to take the pain away,” Jungeun replied. “And a lot of the light I have now is yours.” Even if she didn’t want it, she knew Jinsoul would never let her give it back, so she didn’t try. 

Neither of them said anything then. Jungeun was fully content with just staying that way, but she wondered if it was the same for Jinsoul. Were her thoughts still spiralling through the past few days? Was she still thinking about what might’ve happened?

Then Jinsoul closed her eyes again, leaning a bit further into her. For a moment, Jungeun wondered if she’d close the distance. She was torn between pulling away and letting it happen. 

But she knew Jinsoul wouldn’t do that. Jungeun also didn't know if she was supposed to be disappointed or relieved. She might’ve been both. That ache made the two feelings even stronger. It seemed to amplify a lot of things. Or it just made her more aware of them. 

Jinsoul let out a long breath. It was silent, but it seemed to drag her down. 

Jungeun’s heart sank. She knew that even if Hyejoo hadn’t come, even if the light hadn’t worked, Jinsoul wouldn’t have given up. She’d have kept giving Jungeun light. She might’ve been worse off than she was now. 

That tore at her as much as Jinsoul’s pain now did. It was something she didn’t want to be true. If Jungeun ever got into that position again, and Jinsoul was with her, there’d be little that she _wouldn’t_ do to save her. 

That scared her. 

“So,” Jinsoul looked at her with reddened eyes, “you even try to leave for patrol and I’ll trap you in a ball of water.”

“I’d drown.”

“You'll be able to breathe.”

Jungeun forced another laugh. “How considerate.” 

“But I’m serious,” Jinsoul said. “You can think of any excuse and I’m not buying it. You’re gonna be at my side until you can hold more moonlight than I can and have enough fire to burn the entire forest down.” 

“You’re not gonna make me prove it, are you?”

She laughed. “No.” A long pause. “But you do know I mean it, right?” She looked up. “You going out now to do anything is dangerous. It’ll be like that for a few weeks.” 

And Jungeun knew very well that Jinsoul would be fighting to contain her worry. Even in a year, those worries would probably linger. Even though they should’ve never been there in the first place. 

"I'll be safe," Jungeun told her. "And I'll try to listen to you more."

"You better." Jinsoul's voice was teasing, but there was a stubborn glint to her eyes. There was also hope. 

One of the knots in Jungeun’s stomach eased just seeing it. She wondered if they'd be getting away from this subject. She hoped so. She didn’t want to see any more of how much Jinsoul cared, or how far she’d go to keep her safe. 

She’d already seen too much. 

But Jungeun also knew they needed to talk about this. She knew Jinsoul needed to talk about it, and that she wouldn’t go to Yerim for it. She probably wouldn’t go to Sooyoung or Haseul either, especially with everything else happening. 

“Except for the other things you’ve done for me,” Jinsoul started, her head sinking to Jungeun’s shoulder, “you just being _here_ helps me more than any ray of light or drop of water could. You don't have to do _anything_ for me." After a short pause, she added, "except listen to me when it comes to your health." 

The ache was back in her throat, but still she smiled. It wasn’t one she needed to force. Jinsoul was usually the reason for that smile. 

“I don’t know how any of what you were going through felt.” Jinsoul’s fingers traced along hers. “But I know it was hurting you and I know you weren’t always telling me that.”

Jungeun hadn’t. For good reason too. The cold, the way her mind had been darkened—it’d put a weight on every thought she had. There were moments when she’d wanted to turn away from all of them. She remembered snapping at those who’d never deserved her anger. She remembered wanting to _hurt_ someone, hardly caring who it was. 

And for a short moment, she thought of Hyejoo. That darkness was in her. She _lived_ with it. She’d had those same thoughts, that same heavy mind, but even more so. And she’d gone through it alone. Until Alluin had found her. 

But she’d also helped people, helped those who didn’t deserve it in addition to those who needed it. She’d turned back to them again to help when she hadn’t needed to. 

“Wanna tell me what’s flowing through that head of yours?” Jinsoul pulled away slightly. Her hand reached out and she brushed a few strands of hair away from her forehead. The touch was cool. Soothing, but it also succeeded in tugging at whatever was drawing Jungeun closer. The weight in her chest grew heavier. 

“The darkness was never bad,” Jungeun said, stuck between leaning into the touch and moving away. “Hyejoo’s proved that without trying and the evidence is there wherever we look.” She held a hand up. It cast a shadow in the glow that came from their skin. “But having it in you, it hurts. It made me think things I didn’t ever want to have in my head.”

“It was changing you,” Jinsoul finished. 

She nodded. “And the change in her. I don’t know how much has been what we did and how much was the darkness.” The memory of bright black eyes flashed across her mind. They’d looked like obsidian once. Now they were like the depths of a chasm, even when she smiled. 

“I’m not sure if we can separate it that easily,” Jinsoul replied. “She was lonely—she _still_ is, she’s still angry,” she frowned, “and I’m very sure there’s a lot of hatred still left for the Astra. It’ll be even worse with Alluin.” 

And the darkness could feed on that, morph it. Or it could just fester. Anyone could turn bitter through their anger. They wouldn’t need darkness for it to begin to consume them. How many times had that been proven in the past years? They’d even seen it with Haseul and Heejin. Jungeun knew it was in her as well. It had come to the forefront through the darkness, but it hadn’t faded. 

“Hey,” blue eyes were in her vision then, “thinking hurts you.” 

Jungeun fought a smile. “That’s a little insulting.” 

“But true.”

She closed her eyes. “I’ll stop.” 

“If we can help her like she did us,” Jinsoul’s head was on her shoulder again, “we’ll figure it out.” 

“Later?” 

“Later.” 

Jungeun was caught off guard by how comfortable she felt. It wasn’t as if she’d never felt comfortable around Jinsoul. She almost always had, but there were several other things that made her want to keep away. But even then, she never could. Jinsoul had become one of the most trusted people in her life, and she'd managed it in half the time that some others had. And with Jinsoul being Jinsoul, she never failed to make the time spent with her meaningful. It didn't matter if it was spent in silence or not. 

And now, Jungeun was enveloped in a clear feeling of warmth. After weeks of only feeling cold, the warmth she felt now kept her where she was. Even if her chest still felt sore, as though her injuries hadn't healed. 

“Thank you,” Jinsoul said. 

Jungeun looked at her, leaning away ever so slightly.

Her smile was warm. “You should’ve been mad at me.” 

Jungeun laughed. “I couldn’t have gotten mad at that. You were right next to me when we were talking.” 

Jinsoul pouted. “I should’ve been asleep.” 

She shook her head. “It almost feels as if you’re trying to convince me.”

Jinsoul just shrugged. 

Jungeun didn’t know what to say to that. Jinsoul sometimes expected her to be upset at things that didn’t exactly call for her to be upset. She kept thinking that Jungeun was upset over the way Jinsoul had acted in the beginning, no matter how often she told her it was fine. Jungeun also knew she expected Yerim to be upset that they hadn’t talked properly about the latter being a seer. Jungeun made a mental note to tell her that Yerim was over the moon, because Jinsoul finally knew the truth. 

“You don’t really talk to me like that,” Jinsoul said softly. She was looking into the water again. “You can tell me if you didn’t like that I’d heard all of that.”

 _Like that?_ "How do I talk to you?" 

Jinsoul didn’t lift her gaze. Some of the light had left her eyes. “You don’t always let me know what’s going on with you,” she whispered. “Like Dahyun, what did she mean with that ache? Why is it similar to Chaewon?” Someone whose bond had been broken. Someone whose heart was part darkness and part light. Or, someone whose heart was littered with holes, devoid of both darkness and light. 

She didn’t want to tell her. She realised what ‘like that’ really meant. 

But she couldn't tell her about the emptiness that was still there. She couldn't tell Jinsoul that it probably wasn't going to leave her, because she'd try to find a way to fix it. 

“Do we have to talk about this now?” 

Jinsoul’s expression softened. It always ended up doing that. Except this time, the resolve in her eyes didn’t lessen. “Yes,” she said. “Because this’s the only time we’ll be able to for a while.” 

Jungeun wanted to protest, but she couldn’t bring herself to do that. 

“Or you ask Darie when she comes.” Jungeun had already spoken to Haseul to send the message. “She’ll probably be able to explain it.”

“But you don’t want her to.”

She didn’t say anything. 

Then Jinsoul’s breath caught. Realisation flickered across her face. 

Jungeun closed her eyes. 

“Holes,” Jinsoul said. “She said Chaewon had them.” 

Silence. She didn’t want to fill it. 

“But you had them too?” 

No. This wasn’t what she'd wanted to happen. She didn’t want Jinsoul knowing any of this. 

“Have them,” Jungeun corrected. 

Jinsoul was very quiet, but Jungeun could almost feel her confusion, as well as her dread. It was almost like it was her own. 

“How does it feel?” Jinsoul asked. 

That hadn’t been the reaction she’d expected.

“It isn’t cold for me anymore,” Jungeun said. “But I know something’s missing.” 

“And it hurts?” Jinsoul asked. “Not a lot, but just a bit?”

For the first time since she'd been healed, Jungeun felt cold. 

“That one—I mean, it’s doesn’t hurt anymore.” Jinsoul squeezed her hand.

“When did it start for you?” Jungeun asked. She hoped it wasn’t what she was thinking. 

“After—”

“You healed me?” Jungeun finished. 

The small nod sent a crack through her. 

Jinsoul immediately ran her hands up and down Jungeun’s arms. “That wasn’t you,” she said. “It wasn’t you at all.” 

“You gave me too much,” Jungeun shook her head, “and you took some too.” 

“I needed to,” she told her, her hands going to cup Jungeun’s face. “If there was a chance I could get you back that way, I’d take it.” 

She couldn’t look her in the eye. She’d see how they didn’t glow as brightly as before. 

It made sense. Jinsoul’s exhaustion, the lack of light she’d had every now and then. She was in _pain_ because of what she’d taken. She had that same emptiness Jungeun did. She had it because she’d tried to help her. 

“Jungeun,” Jinsoul’s voice was a bit louder, “I could’ve waited for Hyejoo. I could’ve gotten someone else to help me, but I didn’t.” She forced her to look up, thumbs brushing over her skin, trying to be soothing. “I _needed_ you to be okay.”

“You didn’t.” Jungeun knew her voice was shaking, but she couldn’t stop it. 

Blue eyes stared back at her. “What?”

“You don’t need me to be okay,” Jungeun pushed her hands away, “you don’t _need_ to help me, you never needed to.” She nearly fell into the pond as she got to her feet. “What if none of it had worked?” She didn’t dare look at her again. "What if I'd I’d died, Jinsoul? What then?" 

“But you survived,” Jinsoul started, ”you—”

“What about next time?” Jungeun shouted. “You won’t always be there, and if you are, you can’t put yourself at risk for me! That’s not worth losing pieces of you, that isn’t—” A sob fought its way to her throat. 

“We’ll deal with that when we get there.” Her voice was steady, completely calm. She came into her view, her hands outstretched, but she didn’t come any closer. “And I told you, it’s not hurting right now.” Pause. “That means it’s not too much.” 

“It’s never going to go away,” Jungeun threw back. “And what if I hadn’t made it? You would’ve taken more than you did, you could’ve made it so much worse. And for what?” She felt heat crawl into her arms and forced it back. “You can’t fight for me. You’ll just—“ 

“What?” Jinsoul raised a brow. “Get hurt?” she asked. “You can’t tell me that.”

She frowned. “Are you serious?” 

“Of course I am,” Jinsoul’s voice wasn’t sharp, but Jungeun could feel a flicker of her irritation, “you got into this because you were protecting Yuqi and Shuhua. And how many times have you gotten hurt because you stepped in for somebody else?” 

“That’s not—“ 

“It is the same,” Jinsoul snapped. “You do it all the time, but the moment someone steps in for you, they're crossing the line.” 

Jungeun looked away. 

Her voice softened. “It’s unfair,” Jinsoul said. “I can’t always help people without giving something away, or taking something else. I needed to take what was hurting you to heal you.” A long pause. “And maybe I hurt myself because of that, but I don't regret it.” She hesitantly stretched out her hand. It was trembling. “Not when you’re still standing in front of me.” 

Jinsoul’s voice still sounded strong, but Jungeun had known her long enough to know when that was just a front. One she always put up to keep others calm, or just oblivious to what she was feeling. 

Jungeun took her hand. 

She felt the relief in Jinsoul in the next moment. 

Guilt clutched at her throat. She wasn’t the one who needed to be reassured, or talked down in some way. She was the one who was supposed to be level headed, the one who needed to be there. And she wasn’t being that. 

“You mean so much to me,” Jinsoul said quietly. “You probably don’t even want to hear that, but I need you to.” 

Jungeun couldn’t bring herself to look up. The warmth in her chest felt suffocating. The ache didn’t hurt, but it’d spread from her throat to her head. 

“You’re important to all of us.” She squeezed her hand. “You’re worth all of the light you got and so much more.” Jinsoul took a small step closer. “I know you don’t think so, but I do.” 

“I know you do,” Jungeun muttered. And she didn’t understand why. Beyond her abilities, she was someone who could kill without relishing in it, or breaking down the moment she realised what she’d done. She just fought and she was good at it.

“I need you to stop trying to convince me that you’re not important,” Jinsoul took Jungeun other's hand, “because it‘ll never work.” 

Her chest seized at the words. She fought a groan. It came out as a strained hum. 

“What happened?” Jinsoul’s voice was immediately alert. 

Jungeun forced herself to keep upright. Falling would just make things look worse. 

“Nothing bad,” she got out. “Promise.” 

Jinsoul’s grip on her hands was tight. Jungeun could feel the dread starting to form in Jinsoul. 

“I don’t even know what that was,” Jungeun told her, “but I know it wasn’t bad.” It was true too. She had no idea what it was, only what the reason was. She didn’t want to face that reason, but that was impossible. 

She looked up, knowing the light in her eyes would calm Jinsoul down. 

The fear she saw in Jinsoul broke something in her. She forced that pain down and smiled instead. 

“See?” Jungeun freed one hand from Jinsoul’s grasp. She lifted it to her face. The skin was a bit colder than before. “I’m okay.” 

Jinsoul’s eyes held hers. “You’re sure.”

She nodded. “It’s already gone.” That wasn’t exactly true, but the ache hadn’t spiked. It'd just extended to her fingertips. They itched to do something other than carefully brushing the hair from Jinsoul’s face. 

Jungeun pulled her hand away, but took Jinsoul’s again. 

Jinsoul nodded, her head dropping slightly. She looked both relieved and exhausted. 

Jungeun wished she wasn’t the reason for it.

“Can we,” Jinsoul began. Then she shook her head. “Is it okay if,” she broke off. 

“If what?” Jungeun squeezed her hand, telling her it was alright. Whatever the feeling she had now, even if overwhelming, she needed to ignore it. 

“Can I hold you?” Jinsoul glanced away from her, her lip jutting out slightly

Instead of an ache, Jungeun felt heat rush to her face. “Yeah?” 

“You’re not sure?” She glanced up. 

“No, no,” she shook her head, “we can—you can.” 

Jinsoul sat down, still holding her hand. She looked up, both hopeful and hesitant. 

Jungeun joined her. 

Immediately, she was pulled close. Now it was her head on Jinsoul’s shoulder. The arms around her were loose, but tight enough to keep her securely there. 

Jinsoul relaxed then, humming softly. It was as if all she’d needed was this. 

Jungeun closed her eyes, feeling them start to burn. 

Neither of them said anything, but she felt like she needed to break the silence. Otherwise they’d just leave another discussion behind them, only for it to come up again later. 

“You know you’re one of the most important people in my life,” Jungeun said. She focused on the slow rise of Jinsoul’s chest. “And the thought of ever losing you terrifies me.” 

Jinsoul’s breath hitched. 

“I don’t know what my life would be like without you.” Her throat tightened. “I can’t imagine it.” She forced down the emotions threatening to come. “But I know there’s so many people where you’re a huge part of their lives, or you’re going to be. You’re so important to Yerim, and I know you don’t think you’ve been there for her enough, but you have.“ 

It felt like Jinsoul was going to speak. Her grip on her had tightened ever so slightly. 

“My people knew from the moment I was born that I couldn’t be a constant in their lives. My friends and family were still the same, but they always had it in the back of their minds.” She searched for the right words. They’d all known that there was a high chance that she wouldn’t make it back. She was one of the people they sent in for that reason. The risk of losing many was minimised that way, and the rest didn’t lose themselves to dread of grief either. 

Jinsoul hadn’t said anything yet, but she was lightly tracing Jungeun’s shoulder. She was listening. 

“Here, none of you have that. A lot of people see me as invincible. It’s a surprise if I don’t win, and that’s,” she trailed off, “that’s not how people should see me.” 

Jinsoul’s thumb swiped across her cheek. A few droplets of water left with it. They formed a small cube, before flying into the pond. 

Jungeun laughed. 

“Keep going,” Jinsoul said gently. 

Jungeun felt a slow wave of warmth then. She’d expected Jinsoul to start protesting the moment she thought she was being self-deprecating. 

“People have relied on me, but they’ve—“ she stopped herself. She had no idea how to say that. 

And Jinsoul gave her time to think it over. Of course she did. 

_You don’t really talk to me like that._ ****

It was true. Jungeun had quickly learned that being open with Jinsoul was the best way to go about things, even if she didn't always like the things she heard.

But she'd always put a limit on what to say. Sometimes she'd done it to avoid forcing Jinsoul into a perspective she'd rejected at the time. Other times she'd just done it to keep parts of the past where they were supposed to be. Buried in the darkest places of her mind. 

“I guess they never needed me to come back,” Jungeun said. “And I learned not to really expect that either.” Then she realised how bad that sounded. “But we hoped for it. There were celebratory dinners when I got back from something messier.” 

“Messier,” she repeated, a bit of humour in her voice. 

“Well, I was a mess when I got back,” Jungeun replied. “Then I cleaned up and it was great from there.” 

“We can have fun.” Jinsoul pressed her cheek to the top of Jungeun’s head. “You’re not a mess now.” 

She laughed again. “It's not a mess you can see.” 

“No,” Jinsoul said. “Sometimes you're hard to read and even when you aren't, it's complicated.” A kiss was placed onto the top of her head next. “But not a mess.” 

“Yeah right.” 

“If I can make sense of it, then you’re not messy.” 

Again, the wave of warmth came over her, but even slower. It eased some of the ache too. Somehow. She ignored it. 

“You can make sense of it?” Jungeun forced herself to look up. 

“Of you?” Jinsoul smiled slightly. “After years of knowing you, I think I understand a few things.” 

Her face was still warm, but the way Jinsoul looked at her didn’t help. 

“I know you love being here, because you can do things other than fight. You can help people without using fire.” The tenderness in her eyes got stronger. “But you still think that’s all you’re good for, even if you know that’s not completely true.” Her hand rose to brush across her cheek. It fell away soon after. “And because of that, you don’t want people caring about you too much. You don’t want them thinking you’re a constant, because you think it’ll hurt more if—” Her face fell. "If you don’t make it back.” 

Jungeun had no idea what to say to that. 

“But you’re not consistent,” Jinsoul continued. “If you really believed all that, you wouldn't have stayed here. Not really. Jiwoo, Haseul and the others all started to think you were here to stay." She took a deep breath. "You wouldn’t have reached out to Yerim _and_ stuck with her as long as you did either." Her smile was both warm and slightly weak. “And you wouldn’t have stayed with me after,” she trailed off. 

She didn’t need to finish that. The memory of that day hadn't left her. 

Jungeun looked away, shame replacing whatever nervousness she’d had. 

“But I’m so happy you did. Maybe I don't really know why, but you stayed in our lives.” Jinsoul was lightly tracing her knuckles. “And I'll try to keep you in it." Her smile had a sad edge to it now. "It doesn't matter if you’re here or if you have to go away again.” 

The knot in Jungeun’s throat tightened. This was exactly the reason she’d even stayed in the camp. Yerim was another big reason, but Jinsoul was too. It was almost funny in its irony. They'd been the reasons she’d wanted to leave as well. 

Jinsoul was quiet. Was she waiting for a reply? Jungeun didn’t know what she could give her. 

She glanced up. 

Sparkling eyes looked back. They were searching her own. 

“You’re right,” Jungeun said. 

A quirk in her lip. “But?” 

“But,” she sighed, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to that. What I’m supposed to, well, do.” And how would it ever make up for all this time? 

“Nothing,” Jinsoul said. “At least not right now.” She finally smiled. It was the same one that always came when Jinsoul was being patient. She was always able to do that. 

Jungeun frowned. “I’ve been doing nothing for a long time.” She wasn't sure what they were talking about exactly, but it looked like Jinsoul did. 

“Not true,” she replied. “And tonight we finally talked about this. About you.” She pulled her closer. “We can stop talking about it if you want.” 

“You don’t want that.” 

Jinsoul was quiet. Her gaze was distant again, hesitant too. 

“Don’t say it’s okay,” Jungeun said. “Because I know it won’t be.“ Especially now that she’d heard what she’d heard today. Jinsoul had held in a lot of frustration and worry. She hadn’t even let all of it out today. 

Because she could push it down. Jungeun couldn't. 

Jinsoul's brow started knitting together. 

Jungeun brushed her thumb over it. “You said I don’t talk to you like that. I don’t tell you a lot of things.” She felt a surge of guilt just thinking about it. She hadn’t realised that Jinsoul had noticed that. “I told you that you could tell me everything. I should probably be trying the same.” 

Jinsoul’s eyes were wide as she looked at her, lips parted in a small ‘o’. Then she smiled. As always, it was beautiful, but there was something else to it. She looked completely elated. 

And Jungeun was absolutely sure the smile was because of her. She couldn’t believe it. 

“Thank you.” Jinsoul’s voice came out as a whisper.

“I didn’t do anything.” Jungeun couldn’t look away. The warmth was overwhelming, the ache once again present from her throat through to her fingers. 

She shook her head. “You did.” One of her hands cupped her face. “I mean that.” Her eyes were glowing even brighter now. 

Jungeun knew that look. She wanted to look away, but she didn’t. Not when Jinsoul looked so _happy_. 

But as she held her gaze, she felt a lump grow in her throat. 

How could Jinsoul feel this way around her? What had she ever done to be able to make someone like her smile like that? 

Jinsoul’s expression softened. It made whatever Jungeun felt worse.

She could feel something changing. It was something that’d already shifted before, but Jungeun hadn’t been able to face it then. 

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to now. Or even if she could. 

But Jinsoul was the last person she wanted to turn away from. 

Jungeun's heart sank. It was those same warring thoughts that had led them to be in this place for years. 

“Don’t think too much,” Jinsoul said then. “Let’s go back?” Her hands fell away from Jungeun’s face. They lingered on her shoulders. “I’m hungry.” She stood, grabbing her hands and pulling her up. The smile was still there, but it wasn’t overwhelming anymore. That didn’t calm Jungeun’s nerves, nor the mess of thoughts she had. 

Jinsoul also knew that something was wrong there. She’d experienced that too. Neither of them would forget it, but they’d never brought it up. Another thing that ‘everything’ might include. 

Jungeun felt a small wave of panic at that. Then she felt ashamed. She was such a coward. Jinsoul had to know that too, but she was still here. 

_How can you love someone like me?_

Jinsoul squeezed her hand, tugging her along. “I meant what I said earlier. Stop thinking,” she said. “It hurts you.” 

“That’s a little insulting.” 

“But true.” She threw a wink over her shoulderm but it lacked a lot of its normal playfulness. “Come on.” She pulled her until she was at her side. Both her arms slipped around her waist. She hugged her tightly, her lips brushing across Jungeun’s temple. 

Suddenly breathing felt difficult. 

“You’re amazing,” Jinsoul whispered. “You won’t listen to anything else I say about that, but I’m telling you now.” Then she pulled away, her step almost a skip as she went back to camp, Jungeun in tow. 

Those words echoed in her mind. The ache had gotten stronger. She hadn't been able to push it down this entire time. She hadn't been able to ignore it. 

_____

“You’re serious,” Olivia felt herself start to smile, “you can see all that?”

Yerim nodded, laughing slightly. “It’s not all great, but the sight’s got a few good things.”

“But sometimes really frustrating?” 

She hummed. “I see that bond get stronger when they’re close to each other, even more when they’re talking.” Her expression turned sombre for a moment, before the smile returned. “But it’s not an actual bond yet. They didn’t really have a set one before, I don’t think.”

“You mean it came later?”

“I’m not sure,” Yerim replied. “Never really asked Eline about it, but Jiwoo—” she broke off, looking apologetic. 

Olivia ignored the anger that rose at the name. She nodded instead. “What did she say?”

“Their light kept drifting together, starting to tie together after Jinsoul started to see past,” she pursed her lips, “the rest.” She looked confused. 

Of course she would. Yerim hadn’t seen what Jinsoul had been like in the beginning. She’d seen Jinsoul’s hesitance, but not what had come before. 

“And none of the seers’ll say anything?” Olivia asked. She couldn’t help but think about the disaster that’d been—and still was—Heejin’s bond. 

She shook her head. “From what I can tell, most either can’t see it or don’t really believe it.” 

She scoffed. “Don’t believe _that_?” It took a few minutes to see what those two felt for one another, a few seconds if you spotted how they looked at each other. Especially Jinsoul. 

Yerim smiled. It didn’t look as tired as before. “I have a feeling they’ll see it. Nuala realised it and she went straight to the seers, telling them to keep them from any ceremony.”

Olivia couldn’t hide her surprise. “Why? Why would she care?”

She shrugged. “She sees a lot, you know. She’s worked with Jinsoul for years too.”

“But this has nothing to do with that.”

Yerim looked at her. “She isn’t heartless. And as hard as it is to see, she does care about all of us.” 

“You,” Olivia corrected. “Not us.” But even as she said it, she remembered the sheer relief and gratitude in Nuala’s eyes. 

She just nodded, looking away. 

Olivia felt guilty. Even though she loved Yerim no less than before, things had also changed here. Yerim had lost some of her unbridled enthusiasm, while Olivia was the person she was now. 

“I asked Hyunjin to stop by,” Yerim said, a small smile coming back, but it was hesitant. “She’s bringing something to eat, but we both have to talk to you about something.” 

She felt a small sense of unease then. 

“It’s nothing bad!” Yerim added hurriedly. “At least, I don’t think so.” She leaned from one side to another, hands fiddling at her side. 

“Okay,” Olivia muttered. She wondered if it was to do with the strange combination both of them seemed to have. It wasn’t exactly darkness, or light. Was she supposed to say it was tied to shadows instead? 

Hyunjin came a few minutes later, food in her arms, along with three metal bowls. 

“You know I’ve got these, right” Olivia summoned a plate of darkness. “And you’ve got something too.” 

She nodded. “I don’t have anything.” She said it nonchalantly, yet she eyed the plate. Not with fear, but hesitance instead. 

Olivia felt a pit open in her stomach. “What?” 

Yerim grimaced. “We were supposed to get to this later, maybe right before dessert?” She gave Hyunjin a pointed look. 

Hyunjin took a bite out of something. It was a pastry sprinkled with pieces of plum. “Now we got to it.” She sat down, started filling the bowls. “Neither of us can use the light. It started after we were both injured, Yerim by a bright spirit. Me when,” a haunted look came over her expression, “I took the darkness.”

“And you were also attacked by the bright spirit,” Olivia said. Already, she could see what was happening. That pit in her stomach grew. 

She frowned. “But that didn’t—” The realisation dawned on her. “I don’t think it changed anything.” 

There were two options. Stop this conversation immediately and make sure it was never brought up again. 

Or she could try something that risked a lot more than just a lack of magic. 

“But I still have the sight,” Yerim said. “And there’re two spirits who’ve been changed too.” 

“They both saved us,” Hyunjin added. She looked hesitant. There was a thin cloud of fear around her. 

Olivia still felt caught. What was she supposed to do? What if she ruined something for them? What if they lost something else? All because of her?

“Hyejoo,” Hyunjin was looking at her intently, “what’s wrong?”

She realised then that Hyunjin seemed restless. Hyunjin only had her magic, while Yerim had the earth and flora still under her control—what she’d been born with. Olivia had been born without her magic. 

“I don’t know why,” Olivia said. “But I think I know what’s happening.”

Both leaned forward. Yerim looked hesitant, almost as if she suspected the answer, while Hyunjin looked hopeful. 

She made sure her voice was hardly a whisper. “You might be like me.” It made no sense. Yerim had been chosen later. Hyunjin had been born with moonlight. 

And yet they’d been attacked by both types of magic too, in short amounts of time. Jungeun had gotten hurt as well, but only by the darkness. 

What about the spirits? Where did they come in? That made even less sense. 

Unless that was related to why Ikopar had followed her. Maybe the same applied to these spirits. 

“As in,” Hyunjin leaned back, stunned, “like you were before? Or now?”

“Both.” At first she’d been without the light. Then the darkness had come. 

“We don’t know that,” Hyunjin shook her head, “what if it’s just a matter of time?” 

Olivia felt a pang of hurt, but she knew why Hyunjin was acting like this. If she was right, did the two of them still have a place there? Were they even still Astra? 

She summoned a piece of darkness and set it between them. Both eyed it, neither of them moving. 

“Hye,” Hyunjin began. “I don’t,” she stammered, “I’m sorry, but—”

“It’s okay.” Olivia tried for a smile. “This’s just to see if I was right.” And she was. She didn’t want to be. 

Yerim reached out. 

“Don’t,” Hyunjin said. “You don’t know what’ll happen.” 

“I know I’ll be okay,” Yerim replied. Then she took it, gasping the moment she touched it. The darkness surged over her skin, coating it before sinking in. 

Olivia remembered the moment darkness had taken her. She remembered the pain. She cursed. 

She scrambled over to her just as the air turned cold. The darkness went over Yerim’s heart, before crawling away, leaving her heart lined with darkness. There was still light there. Somehow. 

Yerim’s right eye had turned white. Then it filled with darkness as well. 

She cried out. 

“Yerim!” Hyunjin tried to go to her. 

Olivia pushed her back. “Don’t touch her.” Whatever was happening to Yerim would jump to Hyunjin. 

Hyunjin’s eyes were wide with panic. She also looked as if she’d punch her, but she hung back. 

“I’m fine,” Yerim said. “Cold,” she shook her head, “and my entire brain hurts.” She put a hand to her forehead. “But I’m okay.” She opened her eyes. Her right eye was black, a thin white crescent at the base of her iris. Beside the purple, it seemed wrong. “Hyun?” She sat up. “What is it?” 

Olivia looked. Her heart twisted. 

Hyunjin was shaking, her eyes on Yerim, but searching for something. She looked scared. “He was right,” she muttered. “Shit,” she put her head in her hands, fingers scraping across her skin. “No.” The word came out as a whimper. 

“Hyunjin.” Olivia took a careful step forward. 

“Don’t give me any,” Hyunjin snapped. “Please,” she looked away, “I wasn’t thinking. All that should’ve killed me and it didn’t.” She threw one of the plates at the tree. It dug into it with a sharp thud. “I didn’t even think this’d trigger something. I thought he was _wrong_!" There was both desperation and anger in her voice. 

Olivia felt the shadows leaning over to her. She wrenched them back. 

“What are you talking about?” Yerim went over to her, but kept her distance. “What do you mean you weren’t thinking?” 

She looked up. Tears were running down her face. Even when she’d had the light running through her, she hadn’t ever looked helpless. She did now.

Hyunjin stood. “I need to go.” She looked at Yerim. “Be careful.” Then she ran. 

“Where is she going?” Olivia turned to Yerim. 

“Back to camp,” she said. “But I don’t think she knows that yet.” She looked at her hand. 

“I shouldn’t have done that,” she couldn’t forget the despair on Hyunjin’s face, “I’m sorry.”

Yerim shook her head. “Don’t say that.” She grimaced then. “I don’t think it made anything worse.” Her dark eye hadn’t gone back to purple yet. Would it? 

“It hurt you. I—” 

“Hyejoo,” she sent her a sharp look, “the fact that this worked, it means we lost the light. It wasn’t going to come back.” She looked after Hyunjin. Then she took her hand. Her skin wasn’t warm, but it wasn’t as cold as Olivia’s. “She knows that. We just have wait until she,” a pause, “once she figures out what else that was.” 

That look in her eyes stayed It hadn’t been disgusted, or even directed at Olivia. Hyunjin had been terrified of something, but there’d been an actual reason for it, not just shock of the darkness or something like it. 

She wished she could go after her, but she knew Hyunjin needed to be alone. She always did if things got hard. She’d let it out then, before coming to her friends, but with a clearer head. 

She hoped Hyunjin would come to them. She also had no idea what Hyunjin would choose. It’d be between having darkness and having no magic at all. 

But when Olivia thought about what her own magic had brought her, how it’d changed her—what if not having magic was better? 

And then Yerim, why had she taken the darkness so quickly? Why had she been so ready? 

When she looked at her, Yerim was staring at her other hand. On her palm lay a small shard of darkness. It bloomed into a small rose. 

______

Olivia was back in the camp. She'd been called to heal someone and now she was walking past the Astra. Yerim had gone away, not ready for the change to her light to be seen. 

Now it was time for dinner. She kept an eye on anyone who was even remotely similar to Hyunjin or Yerim. She also looked for Hyunjin, but found her nowhere. 

It was her fault. She should've thought of what could've happened. Reminded them of what being like her meant, even if it'd been obvious. She'd lived with her magic for a few years now. She'd learned to grow accustomed to it. Hyunjin had always had the light. Yerim had had it for a long time too. Olivia had never had it. 

And now Yerim had truly lost her light, while Hyunjin wasn't going to get it back. But how was the darkness going to affect them? What if it slowly poisoned them? What if neither of them would be able to handle the cold, the continuous drone of past regrets, memories, and fears? 

Olivia was broken from her thoughts when she felt a tug of something familiar. Hatred. 

She couldn't see it, but knew where to look. Her gaze landed on Yves and Gowon. Regret surrounded them both, but there were tendrils of anger around Yves, directed at herself. 

Then she saw it. The anger that hung around Yves was drifting towards Gowon too. Their fire was low, casting long, yet faint shadows. Those shadows were leaning towards Gowon. 

No. It couldn’t be. She couldn’t be a part of this too. 

Olivia blinked, trying to look again, to see if maybe her perspective had shifted. What if she was just seeing something that’d only been Gowon’s? 

But when she focused on the darkness, she could spot the turmoil in both, distinguish them too. Yves was frustrated and cloaked in guilt. Gowon also had guilt, but there was hatred, all of it directed at herself. And Yves’s darkness had begun to drift on to Gowon’s arm, lingering there. 

She remembered the horror in Gowon’s eyes that night, how she hadn’t been able to look her in the eyes, even then. 

No. It couldn’t be that. Gowon hadn’t lost her magic. She still had light. 

But technically, even though they'd lost control over it, so did Hyunjin and Yerim. 

Olivia's feet started moving,. She was torn on whether or not to stop or keep going. She let herself move. 

She’d told them not to come to her, but she was coming to them. 

Yves saw her first. She started to stand, frowning. 

Olivia took her shadow and made her sit back down. 

Her eyes widened, but she didn’t make another move. Hurt flickered across her expression. Olivia ignored it. 

Gowon looked up and dread came over her features. Did she know? 

No. She didn’t. She was just afraid of what Olivia was there for. Should she have been? 

“You really don’t know what’s happening to you?” Olivia's voice sounded smoother to her ears now. 

Gowon didn’t look away then. Her pale green eyes weren’t as vibrant, but they were still bright. They just weren’t filled with a gentle teasing anymore, but instead something sad, almost empty. “No.” She sounded tired, but she’d always been the one to stay up the longest. Along with Olivia. 

“Is that why you came here?” Yves asked. She was leaning towards Gowon, as if ready to shield her, as if she wasn’t being held back by her shadow. She'd be ready to defend her even though she knew Olivia could overpower her. That part of her hadn't changed. 

“You know what happened to Hyunjin and Yerim?” Olivia asked. “They couldn’t call on the light.” 

Something flashed in Gowon's eyes. Then it vanished. 

She said the next part in Korean. “What happened to your light?” 

Gowon’s jaw tightened. A shadow of the bite from before crept back into her voice. “You can see that." The darkness around her became more concentrated. "You don't have to ask me." 

Yves’ shadows drifted closer, wrapping around Gowon’s wrist. Could Gowon see that?

“I see that it changed," Olivia retorted. “But you’re not telling me what happened.” 

“Why do you have to know?” Gowon hissed. She stood. Her skin glowed, but Olivia felt the shift in the darkness. In her own too. “This doesn’t affect you, this won’t ever have anything to do with you, you’re free of it.” Her anger disappeared, replaced by a shaky voice and glassy eyes. “So just leave it.” Whatever resolve she had left looked like it was close to crumbling. 

Olivia didn’t feel the anger she expected to feel. 

She took a step back, feeling more tired than before, but also something else. It made the parts of her—the holes—feel more pronounced. 

Gowon looked away then. 

The feeling eased, but it was still there. 

“Hye—what’re you doing here?” It was Chuu. The bags under her eyes were the first thing she saw. Was it because of her visions? Did she dream of the future like some of the rest did? 

Olivia pushed the thoughts away. “Doesn’t matter.” She let go of Yves’ shadow only then, but the latter didn’t move. 

She walked away. 

It took a minute, then she heard it. 

“I don’t know!” Gowon’s voice was almost a snarl. 

“Chae,” Yves began. 

“Let go of me,” she said sharply. 

"Just tell us how we can help." Chuu sounded careful, but almost like she was pleading. 

"If you didn't know how to before, you won't know now," Gowon shot back. "So start worrying about yourselves first." 

“Talk to us first,” Chuu was saying. 

“There’s nothing I have to say to this.” Gowon was very quiet. Olivia had to strain her ears to hear her. “It’s never going to change and the two of you’re going to have to get used to that. I have.” Then she was walking away, her breath slowly quickening. She was close to breaking down. 

And the shadows followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not exaggerating when I say I've been planning that conversation between Jinsoul and Jungeun from the beginning. My biggest struggle has been pinpointing the reasons why Jungeun has kept Jinsoul at a certain distance, but never actually pulled away completely. Writing their shared past has helped quite a lot, because Jungeun's character, as well as the contradictions in it, have become much clearer to me. From the beginning, I was writing a relationship where both characters are in love with one another and know they are, but haven't actually said it aloud. Something I've been playing with for a while is how things change the moment you actually admit it aloud. That can range from your feelings changing, to the entire status quo shifting as a result. The bonds are a big example of that, but the exact explanations and consequences of that will be coming later. 
> 
> In addition to a long-awaited Lipsoul talk, there's another aspect of the story that I've been waiting to uncover. That's the triplet line being tied to both light and darkness. Change had already been happening for a while, and I took a really long time to get to that, but it's still not fully formed. Yerim has had yet another change to her magic, but Hyunjin has run from it. 
> 
> One thing I'd like to briefly explain are "holes". If I had to describe it, I'd say it's like a cloth where you cut out a portion of it. You can sew it or patch it up, but that doesn't change that something's missing from the cloth. In this case, those holes are caused by various things, and I'll be getting to those later. 
> 
> Also, I tend to use the words heart and mind a lot more than I ever use the word soul, but in this story there's a link between them. I won't describe it, because that could just get too complicated, but the magic of the elves, specifically the light and darkness, is closely tied to the idea of a soul. Just like how being 'bound by light' can be called having a soulmate, there's a connection there. However, for the enjoyment of this story, you do not need to know those things. A lot of it ends up being for my sanity when I'm writing, because I'd otherwise be really unhappy with how the world was developing.
> 
> But anyway, I won't be making this chapter any longer than it already is. I really hope you enjoyed it. When I was editing this chapter, I really had to stop and think about how LONG it took me to get to certain plot-points. I'm happy with the progress, but I really want to know how it's like for you as a reader. That can either be your thoughts of the chapter itself, or what you've been liking, and not liking, about the story so far. And if you have any predictions, all the better. 
> 
> Thank you for reading. See you next chapter. 


	37. They don't know

“Why’d you also go?” Priad asked. He’d asked her to walk with him. She’d nearly refused, but he’d looked serious for a change. Hesitant too. 

“She got hurt because of me,” Heejin said. 

He frowned. “She’d already had too much darkness.” 

She knew then he was trying to reassure her. Even if he wasn't seeing what'd actually happened. 

“But we all contributed to it,” Heejin said, keeping her voice gentle. “And I was the angriest there.” 

“Why?” 

“Why?” she repeated. Did he really not get it? “No one ever cared about what happened to Hyejoo until they thought she was a threat. No one ever stopped to think that maybe we’d dug our own graves for this.” 

His brow furrowed. “You think this’s our fault?” 

“Yes,” Heejin said. “The person who wants to destroy us was banished. The person who can help us was also banished. She almost didn’t because she knew how we’d treat her.” She forced herself to look him in the eyes. She didn’t feel a tug forward. She’d stopped feeling that a long time ago. 

“You’re saying that like they’re not dangerous.” Priad frowned. “How many people have had their lives put in danger, or taken away, because of that darkness?” His eyes flicked between hers. “Jungeun was almost killed by Alluin’s darkness and his followers. Hyunjin was attacked by that spirit, because she’d cleansed that mortal’s house of the murder.” 

Heejin hated how he’d said that, but she didn’t snap. He was right. In part. 

“But that wasn’t Hyejoo.” 

The frown faded. “She hates us. So does he.” 

“She hates some of us,” Heejin threw back. “And do you think she would’ve healed Kolina if she wanted us gone?” 

She was close to stopping this conversation then and there. All it was doing was making her angry again. It made her feel sick, that she couldn’t keep herself calm. 

“Well she’s staying,” Priad said, a hint of irritation in his voice. “I’m not going to oppose that.” 

_How noble,_ Heejin thought. She didn’t say it aloud. 

“But that’s not why I’m here,” he muttered. The fight had left him. “I know why you went with them. Why you really went.”

She didn’t say anything to that either, but she had a good idea what it was. She braced herself for what would happen next. 

“You love her.” Priad closed his eyes. “I’m not an idiot, Heejin, I know you never wanted this.” 

It was what she’d expected. She couldn’t say anything. Not when it was true. Not when he sounded like this. 

And definitely not when she started to feel what he was feeling: disappointment and heartbreak. 

“And I know you tried,” he muttered. “When I didn’t have to, you were trying so hard and it hurt.” 

Heejin nearly got defensive, but she held back. Priad had never told her what he’d thought of the bond. Neither had she, but she hadn’t been subtle about what she’d felt. 

“Because when the person you’re bonded to _doesn’t_ want you, that hurts.” He opened his eyes. “And when it’s painful for them to kiss you—to even try and love you, that’s the worst part.” He looked away. “But I didn’t stop hoping it’d end up working.” 

She wanted to tell him that this hadn’t been a choice for her. She knew then how unfair the bond had really been. To the both of them. 

“I know you couldn’t help it,” Priad continued. “And I’m not asking you to try again.” He scoffed. “I know that’d probably make you hate me more.” 

“I don’t hate you,” Heejin said. “You didn’t make the bond either.” IEven though she knew he’d wanted the bond. That made her heart sink. 

“We can announce that we reject the bond,” he said quietly. “It won’t be the first time.” 

Heejin laughed. “Just the third time in a thousand years.” 

He smiled slightly. Heejin saw how much effort that was taking. 

“I don’t want a gathering for it.” She thought of the anguish in Hyunjin’s eyes. That she’d had to see that unfold, completely unaware of what would’ve been happening, before shutting herself off. “But you can blame me for it, since it’s the truth.” 

Priad shook his head. “We both decided we didn't agree with it,” he said. “That’s also true.”

Heejin felt a small burst of warmth. If things hadn’t been ruined by the bond, they could’ve been close friends. They had been friends. They were friends, but she knew she wouldn’t be talking to him like this for a while. It’d be more for him than for her. She wasn’t sure if acting like things were normal would hurt him. 

And she didn’t want to hurt him anymore than she already had. 

“Thank you,” Heejin said. “I’m sorry.”

“Wasn’t your fault.” 

“Not about that,” she looked at her hands, “I was selfish.” 

“So was I,” he shrugged, “you could’ve told me outright you didn’t want it, but I could’ve seen that sooner. I should’ve accepted it sooner.” He got to his feet. “But neither of us did that.” 

“Now we did,” Heejin said. “Or,” she hesitated, “you did.” She also stood. 

“I was terrified to have this conversation.” He rubbed his hands together. 

“Really?” 

Priad laughed slightly. “You’re intimidating when you want to be.” 

Heejin could only smile. “Sorry.” 

“It’s alright,” he turned back to camp, “we all had to learn how to do that.” A pause. "Be strong," he sighed, "face all," a pause, "that."

The words reminded her that they’d been able to talk easier before, complaining about their duties, about being given responsibilities they didn’t want. Maybe they’d be able to do that. 

In a few years at least. 

The walk back to camp was quiet, a bit awkward, but far from terrible. 

And when Heejin saw the others by the fire, she said a proper good day to Priad, managing a genuine smile. 

He returned it. 

It wasn’t anything huge, but it was better than before. She hoped it was for him. 

She didn't know what this meant for her now. Or Hyunjin. It should've been wonderful news, but she couldn't help but think that it wouldn't change. Hyunjin had spent years denying that, trying to rid herself from it. She'd been ready to lose a part of herself just to stop feeling what she had. A part of Heejin was terrified that time had succeeded in doing that, at least part of the way. Hyunjin didn't look at her like she used to. Even when they were alone, even when Hyunjin wasn't distracted by the reality of the bond, she hadn't truly opened up to Heejin as she had before. 

No, what had happened now, it only meant that Priad knew the truth. He'd accepted it to, at least to an extent. They were both free of the bond too, or allowed to act against it. Heejin had rejected it since it'd been revealed to her. Had she been able to go against it completely, she would have. She'd not considered Priad in all those years. Not really. 

Had she considered Hyunjin? Genuinely considered what she'd been feeling? Heejin hadn't even known the lengths she'd gone to before. She'd only seen Hyunjin leave and come back. She'd only heard brief accounts of what had happened in those years. She hadn't know that Hyunjin had wanted to give up a piece of herself to sever her ties to Heejin. She hadn't known that Hyunjin had sought out others to love. 

A pit formed in her stomach. She'd missed so much. All she'd done was lash out, harbour resentment. And now she'd apologised to Priad. That wasn't enough, but she didn't know what else to do. 

And now she didn't know what she'd say to Hyunjin. She didn't know how she'd react. They'd spent most of their lives together. She was supposed to know that.

She didn't. 

______

Hyunjin couldn’t stop shivering. This cold was almost worse than what she’d had before. 

Before. How hadn’t she realised that sooner? Why hadn’t she questioned how she was still alive? Why hadn’t anyone else? 

She tried to find the light in herself. Nothing. 

But she could see her fear. It was dark grey. It lingered in front of her mouth, as if every breath was going to take more of it in. 

Hyunjin nearly screamed. She wanted to break something. She wanted a fight. 

She wanted her light back. 

And she’d lost it. Her magic had never been suppressed. It’d vanished. 

He’d been right. He’d seen it before, just ten years before Hyejoo had gotten the darkness. 

“ _I heard about the bond you lost.” The voice had come out of nowhere._

_Hyunjin nearly rammed a stake through his mouth. It was already in her hand, but something held her back, some sort of force on her arm. It felt cold, but not freezing. It was almost comforting._

_The man raised his hands. “It was a public announcement. And I know you care for someone greatly. As did I.” His eyes were so dark they seemed to have been filled with shadows. He was tall and there was notable scarring around his neck. Those scars were from the light they’d used to trap him many years ago. This was Alluin._

_The grip on her arm loosened. He’d taken hold of her shadow._

He’d approached her during one of her hunting sprees. She hadn’t known his face, but the other things had been enough. That he hadn’t hurt or killed her then had been lucky in and of itself. He could’ve done it so easily. 

He’d told her that the moon was supposed to allow for changes in fate, that it should’ve allowed people to refuse their initial partner and be bound to someone else instead. Someone they truly loved. He'd known exactly how to get to her. He'd done it easily, but she'd been an easy target. She still was. 

_“That has nothing to do with me.” Hyunjin turned away. Even when not looking, she felt drawn to him. She knew his story, enough to feel sympathy and guilt for actions that weren’t her own. Still, she also knew enough to be nervous._

_And being drawn in by that magic—it bothered her more than a spirit ever could._

_“It might,” Alluin replied. “Did you love them?”_

_Hyunjin was about to summon her light again, when a dark sword appeared in the air._

_“I’m only here to talk.” The blade disappeared. The message was clear: she stood little chance in a fight. “My bond vanished when the magic came. What if yours never formed?”_

_She shook her head. “I have the light, I’m not like you.” Hyejoo was, but she didn’t have the darkness. From what she’d heard from her parents, Alluin had been very different to Hyejoo too. He’d always leaned more towards the greyer parts of the light, while being followed by shadows._

_“Perhaps,” he said, drawing out the word. “But I can sense those like me. There’re some still among the Astra, but I’ve found others outside of it too, mirrors to your elementals.”_

_It bothered Hyunjin how much he knew. Had he used the witches they worked with? Approached elves and fairies who’d been in their camp? Had he tried to approach Hyejoo? Were there more people sympathetic to him?_

_Did he want her to be one of them? That was what this was. It had to be._

_“I won’t hurt the others you’re with,” Alluin said. “You weren’t even born when tehy turned on me. The others were too young.” He gave her a surprisingly warm smile. “But just know, we will always have space in our home. Even if you’ll always have the light.”_

_He walked away, melting into the shadows with each step._

_The sense of familiarity didn’t fade. Until then, Hyunjin hadn’t ever felt it before._

She had felt it again. After Hyejoo’s banishment, but not in that moment. She’d been scared for Hyejoo, too scared to do anything, but watch. The closest she’d come to thinking about that night was the terror she’d felt that the others would try to help Hyejoo—and then become outsiders like her family had. 

She hadn’t felt it in that mortal’s desecrated home, but the darkness had come to her so easily. That should’ve been the first sign. Taking so much at once hadn’t felt like a risk, but for any other it would have. 

The next sign had been after Hyejoo had healed her. Hyunjin hadn’t taken in any of the darkness, but when she’d had her in her arms, she’d felt a burst of familiarity. It hadn’t just been from greeting an old friend. 

“What happened?” Yeojin was there, orange eyes slowly filling with concern. 

Hyunjin shook her head. “Nothing,” she said. Knowing she wouldn’t buy that, she added, “just—just got caught up in all,” she waved at the camp, “this.”

She nodded once, expression softening. “Are you okay?” 

“Really tired.” Hyunjin forced a laugh. 

“I feel like all of you are,” Yeojin frowned, “Yerim’s been sleeping worse, I think. She wasn’t before, even when that spirit got her. She looks really tired now.”

Hyunjin thought of how the air had chilled, how Yerim’s eyes had filled with darkness. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Her expression softened. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

 _You wouldn’t understand_ , she wanted to say. She didn’t. Maybe Yeojin would have, or she wouldn’t have. Either way, Hyunjin didn’t want to risk saying anything hurtful now. “I know,” she smiled, “but I think I just need some sleep.”

Yeojin let her walk away. 

Hyunjin had no idea how Yerim would be able to come back without raising countless questions. And would they even let her come back? 

If they sent her away, she could see Jungeun and Jinsoul immediately following, regardless of the responsibilities they bore for the Astra. They’d never leave Yerim to fend for herself, no matter the risk of not being able to come back at all. 

And what would happen when people realised Hyunjin had lost her magic? 

Everyone had become more paranoid, more afraid. For good reason too. They’d lost people and come painfully close to others. Hyejoo was their chance to escape that, but Alluin was the chance that they’d lose even more. 

What would happen if Yerim was another person who could wield the darkness? What would happen if Hyunjin became that too?

And what if that was inevitable? What if one day the dankness would take hold of her like it had Hyejoo? What if she couldn’t handle it? Hyejoo had been able to bear it. She knew Yerim would too, but could Hyunjin? She’d been greatly affected by the darkness—what if she actually lost herself to it? 

It was rare, but sometimes people went berserk if they’d gotten too much. They needed to be tied down, or even killed, if their mind was too far gone. 

But even then, that was probably unlikely. The chances were that she’d be like Hyejoo and Yerim. 

The realisation came over her then. Wouldn’t that be better? 

What would happen to Yerim if Hyejoo left? Would she go with her or try to stay? And even if she didn’t go with her, wouldn’t it be better if Hyunjin left as well? Either with Hyejoo, or both of them? 

_Yes_. The thought was immediate. With light or without it, Hyejoo being out there alone again would be worse than either Hyunjin or Yerim leaving. Hyunjin couldn’t let that happen. 

As she walked through the camp, she saw Heejin sitting with Haseul and Vivi. Heejin looked surprisingly at ease. Hyunjin immediately looked away. 

Alluin had been right about the darkness. What if he’d been right about the bond too? What if that’d been set in time? That Hyunjin would eventually lose her light? Was that saving Heejin the pain of losing the bond? Or was this just how fate was supposed to work? 

______

“You’re already here?” Haseul asked. She let the flap of the tent fall back behind her. 

Yeojin shook her head. “Just needed a little time alone.” It wasn’t said with an edge. That was at least a relief. “Is Hyunjin okay?” 

“I think so,” she said. “Does she seem off to you?”

“Still better than before,” Yeojin replied. “But I just saw her and she seemed a little nervous.”

“Might still be from what happened,” Haseul sighed, “I can count on my hand the number of times someone’s been attacked _inside_ of the camp.”

Yeojin nodded once, a distant look making its way into her eyes. It was familiar. 

She was thinking about Hyejoo, how she was another person who’d been hurt in the camp. 

“This’ll be the worst thing I’ve asked you in a while,” Haseul started, “but how are you?”

Yeojin snorted. “You’re right,” her eyes sparkled a bit more, “but I’m better.” Her expression softened. “A lot of what you told me,” she pursed her lips, “I think I’m starting to get it now.”

She thought back to that talk they’d had. It felt like so long ago, but it can’t have been more than a month. Maybe even just a few weeks. Yeojin had known all this time about what Haseul had done to Chaewon and the others. She'd agreed with it. At least back then. 

They hadn’t gotten to go on that patrol she'd promised her. Haseul had been there when the elders had extensively asked Dahyun about the darkness. Soon after, Jungeun had been attacked. 

_The one thing she’s been wanting is for something she does to matter._

Haseul was still frustrated that Vivi was right in the first place. She wanted to say it wasn’t her fault, but it was. It hadn’t been intentional, but the responsibility for Yeojin had fallen to her early on. She’d tried to do what she could, but she hadn’t always been there. She definitely hadn’t always done the right thing. 

“I actually needed to ask you something,” Haseul said. 

Yeojin looked surprised, but nodded. 

“I was,” she paused, “well, Vivi and I are leaving soon.” 

“What?” Her brow furrowed. 

“We’re going to try and find out more about Alluin’s people,” Haseul told her. “Do you want to come?” 

Yeojin’s jaw dropped. “You’re serious?” Hope flooded her expression. 

Haseul felt guilty for only seeing something like that now. 

“What about the others?” Yeojin asked, a frown appearing. “I’m the last person you’d take on this, right?”

“Not the last, but you’d not have been the first person,” she admitted. “I still think it could be too dangerous, but Vivi says you’re ready. I think she’s right.”

Her brow rose. “You think someone else’s right?”

Haseul pinched her arm. “It’s not the first time!”

“Just one of them,” she cackled, before growing more serious. “I get it.” A pause. “Do you have to hear my answer?” 

Haseul smiled and shook her head. 

“Do you know where to start?”

“I already went to Doyeon,” Haseul said. “But we’ll have to go a second time. Then I’ve got a route we’ll take.” 

“You don’t think they’re waiting for that?” Yeojin asked. 

“Waiting for what?”

“Seul,” she gave her a look, “they were either going to get Jungeun on their side or kill her.” She closed her eyes, before letting out a short breath. “You’re on that list too. They get their chance, they’ll come for you.”

“And we’d have to be ready for that,” Haseul replied. “I’m actually counting on them coming after us.”

Yeojin looked at her for a long moment, stunned. 

“That’s why there’s just three of us. And also why no one’s going to know why we’re actually going.” 

“Hyunjin or Jungeun would try to come with us.”

“Soul wouldn’t even let Jungeun go,” Haseul added. “And Heejin would drag Hyun back.”

Yeojin laughed, but then turned serious again. “And why not Hyejoo?”

“I’m not making her turn against those people,” she said. “Not more than she already has.” 

“Good,” Yeojin nodded, “she was relieved that we let Hanna live.” 

Another reason why Haseul needed to find out more about this group. She didn’t know if she could ask Hyejoo about them. Was that crossing a line? Probably. 

But how else would she know who to give a chance, and who not to? Yes, she’d search the light and maybe she’d find something. She’d also seen enough genuine evil in the world to know when she saw it, but she’d seen that in allies too. 

Just saying that, there might’ve been just as much reason to spare Alluin as there was to kill him. 

“Hey,” Yeojin took her hand, “this isn’t gonna be the first time we talk this through.” She gave her a small smile. “When did you want to leave?”

Haseul was stuck between being surprised at what she said and touched by the simple gesture of letting them move on from it. Even if only for a little bit. 

“I still need some time to work things out. Maybe I’ll get to asking Hyejoo about Alluin, but I don’t know yet.” 

“Hyunjin knew about him too,” Yeojin said. “Remember?”

Haseul tried to wrack her head for that. She couldn’t. 

“After Jungeun and Yerim were attacked. The first time,” she grimaced, “and then she told us about him, what it was like before.” 

Haseul had learned some things, but they’d probably been biased. Between what the elders had admitted and what Hyojung and the others had said, she didn’t know which was more accurate. 

“I’ll ask her about it too,” Haseul nodded, “or,” she trailed off. 

“You think Hyunjin’ll tell me more than that?” Yeojin’s eyes were filled with disbelief. “I need her in a _good_ mood for that.”

“Or anything else,” she shrugged, “we just need to find out as much as we can.”

“So you’ll let them ambush you,” Yeojin said slowly, “but you’ll wait until someone tells us what type of people they are?”

Haseul nodded. Then she got to her feet. “We’ll be prepared.”

“Wait,” she stood with her, “I’m gonna thank Vivi too, because she’s the one who actually got through that massive shell of yours.” She smiled slightly. “But thanks, Seul. I mean it.”

Haseul felt a lump in her throat. “You really should thank Viian,” she said. “I’m just doing what I should’ve done years ago.”

“Which is?” 

Haseul didn’t know how to say that. Shelter her? Yeojin was already doing what she wanted. Haseul had tried, but failed, to stop her most of the time. Protect her? Same thing. 

Then Yeojin hugged her. “You’re annoying and overbearing,” she muttered, “but you did what you thought was right.” She tightened her grip. “And you usually were. Like when I almost got—” She stopped talking. 

“Almost what?” Haseul leaned away to look down at her, but she didn’t pull away. She was very close to crying. She already couldn’t hide her relief. 

“Nevermind!” She looked away. Then after a few seconds. “I might’ve gotten attacked by a vampire,” she mumbled. “Remember when I was sick last year?” 

That sank in. “You got bitten.”

Yeojin looked sheepish. 

Haseul sighed and pulled her closer again. “Do I want to know about the rest?”

“In a few years, definitely.” Yeojin said, sounding more than a bit too excited about it. 

______

Hyunjin stared at the shadows. The more she was aware of just how vast they were, as well as how far the darkness reached, the more she became aware of how they surrounded her—how they leaned towards her when she passed. 

This couldn’t be. She couldn’t be a part of that. It should’ve been impossible, but she needed to stop thinking that way. It _was_ possible. It’d happened to Alluin, before she’d even been born. It’d happened to Hyejoo too, then Yerim. 

And now her. The only difference was that she’d always had her light. Except for now. 

No, Hyunjin was powerless now. She’d lost her magic too. 

All she had was what was right in front of her. 

She held out a hand, placing it on the shadow left by the moonlight. It was her own shadow. 

She could _feel_ her own fear, like she’d felt the gentle joy of the light before. 

It wasn’t just fear. Hyunjin looked further. She could feel the distant grief for her family, the loss she still felt whenever she saw Heejin. 

But there was something else there. A gentle sadness, one mixed with a brief memory of her parents smiling down at her. It was so faint. 

Hyunjin tried to pull at it. 

There was a sharp tug in her mind. She saw Alluin then, remembered what he’d told her. Then she remembered what he’d done—what he’d let others do for him. 

Cold trickles of ice ran up her her arm. 

Hyunjin gasped. The cold reached her heart, but instead of fear or anger, she just felt a deep, yet heavy calm. The chill she hadn’t been able to stand before was now bearable. 

She lifted her hand, seeing the last traces of darkness crawl up her wrist. Before they reached her elbow, they crawled into her skin. She felt that same familiarity that she had before. It was so much stronger now. 

The terrible feeling of weakness was gone. She could feel her magic again, but she knew it wasn’t what she’d had before. This was a slow moving wave, but it felt like a stronger foundation. Even though it was entirely new. 

Hyunjin put a hand to a nearby tree. In the night, everything was dark. Without the light she’d always worn on her skin, it was completely foreign to only see silhouettes around her, if even that. 

The darkness that flowed into her then held no emotion, only that strange calm. It was immense. Was it because darkness didn’t exactly end? Not until the light shone upon it. 

Hyunjin felt even stronger then. Awake, but not completely energised. The fatigue had just fallen away, no new energy had come. 

She could trace where the shadows were stronger. The more she concentrated, the further it went. Was that how she’d be able to see in the dark? Or not? 

Then she heard someone—no, sensed someone approaching. There were some shadows, but the light was stronger. Seeing it was blinding. 

Hyunjin hissed and looked away. 

“Hyun?” It was Heejin. 

No. She couldn’t be here. Hyunjin nearly ran. 

She stopped her feet from taking any more steps. Running away from Heejin would be ridiculous. It’d hurt her too. She couldn’t do that. 

“Here,” she tore her eyes away from the darkness, “I’m fine.”

Heejin was glowing. 

Hyunjin expected to feel her skin crawl as she came closer. It didn’t. The only thing that was even slightly uncomfortable was how bright she was. That and her dread at what Heejin would think of her now. 

She saw the moment Heejin actually looked at her. 

Her eyes widened. For a moment, Hyunjin wondered if she’d actually run. 

Then Heejin stumbled over to her. “What happened? Are you okay?” She stopped glowing. Her hands went to Hyunjin’s. Her skin was so much warmer. “Do we have to go to Jinsoul?”

She looked worried, but she wasn’t scared. That comforted Hyunjin more than anything. 

Hyunjin shook her head. “I’m okay,” she told her. Carefully, she pulled her hands away. She saw the flicker of hurt then. “I don’t know if it’s safe for you to do that.” Jinsoul had accidentally gotten darkness while healing Jungeun. She was fine now, but only Hyejoo had been able to get it out. 

Her brow furrowed. “No one else is here. I checked.”

“That’s not what I meant. I could hurt you.”

The confusion didn’t fade. “You could never—”

“I lost my light,” Hyunjin continued. “Because of what happened. I thought it’d come back. The same thing happened to Yerim, but we went to Hyejoo and,” she hoped she wasn’t making a mistake telling her, “we realised it wasn’t coming back.”

“But your eyes didn’t change before,” Heejin said. Then her eyes glazed over slightly. “And you still have some light, Hyun. I see it.”

That was surprising. She hadn’t been able to sense that in herself. 

“I didn’t have any magic before.” Hyunjin looked at her hands. “I do now.”

Briefly, she debated telling her that their circumstances might not have been random—that it might’ve been meant to happen. 

She didn’t. Heejin had had too much to do with fate already. Maybe she’d tell her another time—if she was still allowed to be around the Astra. 

“I won’t let them send you away.” Heejin’s eyes shone brightly. It was almost difficult to look into them. “Either they’ve accepted that the darkness isn’t dangerous, or I’ll make them see that.”

Hyunjin smiled. It didn’t feel like a chore. “I have to go back to the other two first.”

“They don’t know?” 

She shook her head again. “I didn’t want that change. At first.”

“It’s not a bad thing,” Heejin said immediately. “All that changed was your magic and your eyes.”

“My eyes?” When she focused on them, they did feel a bit colder. 

She pointed at her right cheek. “It turned grey.” Her hand cupped Hyunjin’s face then. “It might take a little time to get used to that.”

“Careful,” Hyunjin put a hand over hers,” what if you get some of it?” She started to take her hand away. 

“You don’t know that,” Heejin said. “It didn’t overwhelm you when you got it. And I haven’t hurt you, right?” Concern flooded her expression. 

“No,” she said immediately. “You’re just really bright. Warm too.”

“And you’re cold.”

Hyunjin chuckled. “Thanks.”

She gave her a look. “But I’m serious, if this was like the malevolent spirits, even being close to you would feel wrong. It doesn’t, like with the other kind, Hyejoo too. This’s fine.” She gave her a warm smile. 

Hyunjin felt a wave of relief then. This hadn’t been her biggest fear, but it had been one of them. And now it’d vanished. Heejin wasn’t afraid of her. She was still here. 

She pulled her into a hug. 

Heejin made a small sound of surprise. Then her arms wrapped around Hyunjin as well. 

“Thank you, Heekie,” she whispered. “I don’t know why this happened, but,” she trailed off. 

“I’m here,” Heejin said softly.

“I know.” She pulled away. Her breath caught when Heejin met her gaze again. 

Sparkling pink eyes looked up at her. Hyunjin knew that look, even after all this time. 

She looked away then. She had too. 

Hyunjin could feel her disappointment. Another reminder that, whatever had happened before, the moon hadn’t ever meant for it to happen—let alone continue. 

Hyunjin pulled away. “I’ll go tell them,” she said. “I don’t know when I’ll come back to camp. Maybe we’ll tell them, and then see what happens. I don’t know yet.”

Heejin’s frown reappeared. “I’ll go with you. We can figure something out.” 

”No,” she started to walk in the direction she’d come, “until we know what they’ll say, you can’t be seen with us.” _With me_. 

“Since when?" Heejin walked into her path. “You can’t tell me to just sit and wait. Hyejoo just came back. And I know our people. I can help you figure out a plan.”

“And if it goes wrong?” Hyunjin asked. “They banish us and everyone remembers you tried to help? They’ll never make you an elder. You’ll be an outcast.” Like her parents had been. Outsiders in their own home. “Don’t risk that for this.”

“For this?” Heejin repeated. The shadow of anger drew over her light. Hyunjin could feel it a lot more than before. “For my friends? To stop another banishment?” 

“You won’t be able to stop it,” she shot back. “You couldn’t then, you won’t be able to now.” As soon as she said those words, she regretted them. She didn’t take them back. She needed Heejin to listen to her. 

Hurt filled her gaze. “It’s different this time,” she said quietly. The anger had vanished in a heartbeat. “Hyejoo’s been helping us. You’ll be able to help too. You just have to learn how.” 

“They won’t care about that,” Hyunjin said. “They still don’t want her here. Once this’s all over, they’ll send her away. Yerim and me wi’ll be along with her, I bet.”

Heejin winced. “I won’t let that happen.”

“You’ll try,” Hyunjin said. “I know you will, but you can’t. We need you as an elder, just like we need Haseul there.” She reached for her hand this time. The skin was a bit colder now. “Helping us now won’t work. You can’t sacrifice all the respect you’ve got, everything you’ve done, for us.” 

“You don’t get to decide that.”

“I know that!” Hyunjin moved away, wondering how much control she had over the darkness. She wouldn’t risk not having enough. Luckily, no darkness had come to the surface of her skin. Not even with the flare of irritation. “I told you it was wrong to even be around me after your bond was revealed. You never listened. If they found out that—”

“Priad knows,” Heejin whispered. 

Hyunjin felt cold. “What?” 

“He knows I love you and he won't say anything."

“Did you tell him?” What if Heejin had already crossed the line? What if even being around Hyunjin now would ruin everything Heejin had been preparing for? 

“He figured it out.” Heejin held up her hands. “It’s not like it’s hard.” Then her gaze softened. “I trust him, Hyun. He won’t tell anyone why. And if I asked, he’d tell the elders he won’t be pursuing the bond. It’ll be alright.”

Maybe it would, but Hyunjin couldn’t feel the same relief she should have felt. “You still can’t love me,” she said quietly. “You were never meant to.” 

Heejin’s eyes widened. Shock appeared first, then confusion, followed by something else that forced Hyunjin to look away. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Her voice trembled. “You don’t—you can’t—”

Hyunjin needed to tell her. “Alluin came to me a few years ago, when I first left. He knew what would happen later. He knew my magic would change.” _That I would change_. 

“What does that have to do with us?” Heejin asked. “Your magic changing doesn’t affect us.” 

“It does,” she said. “Heejin, we’re not—this isn’t what’s supposed to happen. My magic was meant to change, you were bound to someone else. I’m not meant to be here.” Just like the people who’d been chosen by the moon later in life and called to be here. Jinsoul, Jungeun, and Yerim were meant to find each other. They could’ve stayed or gone back to their people, but no one had. 

And the light was very different to the darkness. There wasn’t the choice to stay or leave. Even Yerim's place here wasn't as steadfast as it had been. She hoped for her sake that she'd be able to stay. 

“How can you know that?” Heejin asked. “You’re saying Hyejoo never belonged here?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You’re like her, so is Yerim,” she said. “Are they outsiders too?”

“For a time, Yerim was, Hyejoo almost was,” Hyunjin nodded, “Alluin was one of the first. They sent him away, my family tried to help him, and you know what happened after.”

“That won’t happen,” Heejin looked away from her, “it won’t.” There was no waiver in her voice. 

Something in her heart warmed at that, but she didn’t want Heejin getting more involved than she already was. Hyunjin wasn’t sure if she’d already missed the point where Heejin could’ve still been convinced to walk away. 

“It might,” Hyunjin said. “And I don’t need you fighting for me. The others don’t either.” She sighed. “And if they truly want us out, I won’t want to stay even if we manage to argue the other way.” No, she wouldn’t force Hyejoo and Yerim to stay here, made outsiders again just for their magic. If they wanted to try to live among the Astra, then she’d stay as well. If they chose to go—

“You’d leave?” Heejin’s voice had softened, but she sounded fragile. 

That meant Hyunjin’s next words had the potential to hurt her. There were too many words that could do that and too few that could make any of this better. Most of the words that would comfort her would be lies. 

So Hyunjin only nodded. 

Something cracked in her gaze. It broke Hyunjin’s heart. 

“Y-you,” Heejin stammered. “Hyun?” Tears began to appear. 

Hyunjin pulled her into her arms again. Heejin clutched at her front. Tears soaked into her clothes. “I’m sorry,” she said. “But I won’t stay just for them to be afraid of me. Not if I can avoid it.” There were other reasons, but to list them wouldn't bring them anywhere. They'd just be more points Heejin would try to refute, or reassure. 

“I’m not asking you to,” she mumbled. “But you’d have people who wouldn’t be. You’d still have us.” A short breath. “You’ll always have me.”

Hyunjin almost denied that, but she held back. Heejin breaking down now—that would be cruel. 

“It’d be okay. We’d be somewhere you could find us,” Hyunjin said. “Because Jinsoul and Jungeun wouldn’t hunt us down if we ever hid Yerim from them.”

A small sob-chuckle thing was the response. 

Heejin didn’t let go for a long time. “I don’t want you to go,” she whispered. “I want you to stay with me.” 

Another small rush of warmth. Hyunjin welcomed it, but she still didn’t know the reason. 

Hyunjin also didn’t know how to respond to that. Those words were what she wanted to hear, but they weren’t supposed to be said. Not now. 

“Be honest with me,” Heejin pulled away, looking up at her again, “if this hadn’t happened. If you’d still had your light, would you be staying?”

She didn’t know how to answer that either. 

“I came here, because Priad knows I love you,” she said. “He’s going to start letting me go.” Heejin blinked and wiped away the tears that still clung to her eyes. “I can love you and that isn’t a betrayal anymore.”

That warmth remained. Hyunjin hadn’t thought she’d feel it after the darkness. 

“So what would you do?” Heejin asked. “What if they were wrong about the moon? Or what if the moon was just wrong?” Her brow knitted together. “And there wasn’t something _meant_ to happen?”

Hyunjin looked away. “Don’t say that to me,” she shook her head, “don’t—” _Don't let me hope_. 

“Don’t what?” Her voice was still soft. “Have you never thought about that?” 

“Of course I did,” she said. “But it’s just a thought.” 

Heejin flinched. “Do you really mean that?” 

Hyunjin didn’t reply. 

“Hyunjin.” Her voice was careful, but not as shaky as before. 

She didn’t meet her eyes. 

“Tell me you don’t love me,” Heejin said. “Tell me that it’s _you_ who doesn’t want me around. And then I’ll go.” There was still some tension in her words.

But when Hyunjin did look up, she saw that Heejin’s gaze was only gentle. It wasn’t vulnerable. She was hiding that vulnerability. She didn’t want Hyunjin to think she had to say what she wanted. Heejin knew that Hyunjin could easily lie now. 

And that just made it worse. It made it harder. 

“If we’re talking to each other,” Hyunjin said. “If we’re alone or with the rest, it’ll never be normal.” She held her gaze. “Especially not now. Even if he knows, even if they all know and accept that you’ve rejected the bond, that doesn’t change what’s just happened.” She pulled on a shadow, almost startled when it answered her. The darkness curled around her fingers. “That doesn’t change this.” 

She didn’t even mention what the rest might think, with her parents having known Alluin, tried to help him. What if they thought she’d gotten the darkness from him? What if they thought she was tied to him in some way, along with Hyejoo and Yerim. 

What if they _were_ tied to him? 

“But,” Hyunjin fought a sigh, “nothing changed for me since the bond. You know that.” It felt wrong to admit that, but wasn’t that what Heejin needed to hear from her? She’d know if she was lying. 

Heejin looked at her, eyes wide. There was both hope and confusion there. Hyunjin didn’t want to take away that hope, but she also knew it wasn’t supposed to be there either. 

“I wish you’d have stopped feeling something for me,” Hyunjin said. “Then I’d have had it easier.” It would’ve been easier that day. It would’ve been better if Heejin hadn’t come to her right after the bond had been revealed. It would’ve been better if Heejin had started to hate her after she’d left. Hyunjin still wished she would’ve fallen in love with someone else while she was away. She still wished her emotions could’ve been taken away. 

But none of that had happened. She was still here, with all the emotions she'd had before, and more. She still loved Heejin. Heejin still loved her. 

Heejin was shaking her head. “It’s not that easy,” she replied. “And I don’t think it should’ve been either.”

 _I do_ , Hyunjin thought. 

Heejin’s hands were fiddling at her sides. 

She reached out and took one of them. 

The fiddling stopped. Heejin looked surprised. “I can’t tell you those things,” Hyunjin admitted. “But those what ifs,” she took a deep breath, “those questions aren’t supposed to have answers. _I_ can’t answer them, not when—” She broke off. 

Heejin squeezed her hand lightly. She only looked at her with a gentle gaze. It was both encouraging and patient at the same time. Everything she’d been before Hyejoo’s banishment: free of the frustration, the resentment, and the anger. 

“When they told us you two were bound,” for a moment, she’d felt such hatred towards Priad, but only for a few seconds, “I couldn’t stop wishing for it to not be true—for the moon to be wrong only once.”

Heejin didn’t say anything. Again, she was letting her speak. 

Hyunjin looked at the hand she held. It was something she’d missed. She’d missed being in these quiet moments, being with someone who knew her better than anyone else. Heejin hadn’t cared then about how people had seen Hyunjin and her family. She didn’t hate her now for the darkness within Hyunjin’s heart either. 

“I love you,” Hyunjin said. “I still love you.” She tightened her grip on Heejin’s hand. It was warm. That warmth felt like it was spreading through her body, right until her head. It felt like when Dahyun had given her those emotions. It felt like when she’d given her the green and purple emotions. Happiness and love. 

Heejin’s eyes widened. It was then that Hyunjin saw the tears forming in them. 

A heaviness settled over Hyunjin’s heart. Heejin was _relieved_. Despite what she’d said, despite everything else, it looked like Heejin, in the back of her mind, had started to believe Hyunjin didn’t love her anymore. Hyunjin almost felt sick. Hadn’t she wanted her to feel that way? 

The realisation didn’t make her happy. It didn’t make her think she still had a chance to distance herself. She didn’t want that. Even with the changes. 

“And if the moon really was wrong, I—“ Hyunjin didn’t know how to finish that thought. What would she do? Would would any of them do? This was exactly the kind of thing Hyunjin never thought about. It was too much. There were too many consequences. Too much room to be afraid of, but also to hope. Both were things she didn't want, because so much of the time, that hope was false. 

Heejin was just looking at her, both waiting and simply gazing at her. Hyunjin saw everything she’d tried to block out. She saw how wonderfully patient Heejin was, how expressive she could be with just a look, and how she felt exactly the same. 

Hyunjin raised her other hand. She wiped away the tears that were still on Heejin’s cheek. She let her hand linger, something she hadn’t done in years. 

Heejin leaned into the touch. Hyunjin‘s chest twisted at the sight. It ached. It wasn’t like when the light had first left her. The ache held a strange warmth to it, but it was so faint. Hyunjin was almost sure she was imagining it. 

“I love you too,” Heejin murmured. 

The ache strengthened. It wasn’t a feeling she’d ever had. Her heart had hurt before, but her body had never ached like this. It wasn’t because of an injury. It was something else. 

Hyunjin suddenly felt light, in spite of the pain, in spite of everything she’d said about Heejin’s bond with someone else. Even with the darkness that’d taken hold of her, the light she saw within Heejin now wasn’t blinding. It was comforting to see. 

She found herself leaning forward. 

Then Heejin did the same. 

When they kissed, the ache strengthened, but Hyunjin didn’t want to pull away. Instead, she pulled her closer. 

Heejin hummed, her arms wrapping around Hyunjin’s shoulders, also pulling her closer. Each time they parted, one of them chased after the other, eager to close the distance again.

Hyunjin melted into her arms. How often had she dreamed of coming back to Heejin and holding her? How often had she wanted to kiss her, but held back? 

And now she was here. 

The ache slowly began to subside. 

And then Heejin deepened the kiss. 

Hyunjin felt lightheaded. Everything she felt for Heejin was getting overwhelming, but she loved it. She loved _her_. 

Neither of them were willing to pull away. Each breath they took was a sharp intake through the nose. 

Suddenly, every single doubt had fallen away. Every moment where she’d hesitated seemed foolish. Being here felt right. 

Hyunjin broke the kiss. 

Heejin pulled away, almost hurriedly. “Everything okay?” 

Hyunjin opened her eyes to see doubt in Heejin’s. She felt a flare of guilt. She was the reason for that. 

“Fine,” she said. “I…I shouldn’t have done that.” She didn’t let go of her. “But—” She tried to reach for the right words. They didn’t come. “I don’t regret it.” She sighed. Not the right words. 

Then the corner of Heejin’s mouth tilted up. “That’s all I needed to hear.” Her hands shifted to rest on the back of Hyunjin’s neck. She traced the skin there. It tickled, but she liked it. “Because I’ll tell you now,” she gave her a tiny smile, “I can go back to the way we were before, if that’s what you really want.”

Hyunjin couldn’t hide her surprise. “Really?” 

The resolve in her eyes didn’t fade. “Really.”

“Why?” Hyunjin believed her, but she wanted to know what had changed. It’d taken less than a day for that. At least it seemed like that. 

“I didn’t know what was happening before,” she said. “Not really.” 

“And now?” 

“I know you love me.” Heejin said it with awe in her voice, as if she still couldn’t believe it. “I wasn’t sure before.” 

Hyunjin’s jaw fell slack. “You weren’t?” 

This time, she looked away. “It seemed like it was easy for you. To leave, to stay away,” she faltered, “it felt like it was normal for you.” 

She didn’t say anything. She’d never heard any of this. They’d never spoken about it. 

“And I always thought you were trying to move on. I heard Binnie talking about you and Arin, and others you’d been with before.” Heejin’s brow had furrowed. “And I got it, I knew _why_ , but I,” she trailed off. Then she shook her head. “I couldn’t move on from you. Time wasn’t what helped. I didn’t want to move on either.” She looked at Hyunjin then, her expression pained. “And I know that wasn’t fair, but I—you,” she cut off again. She turned away. 

Hyunjin waited. She lightly squeezed her arm. 

“No one else is like you,” Heejin said. “You know me better than anyone else,” she bit her lip, “you helped me through all those lessons, through the responsibility, you trained me even after that bond came up.” Her head lifted. Hyunjin was once again taken aback by the love in Heejin’s eyes. “But you never made allowances for what I was doing. You didn’t just let me treat Viian the way I had. You made it obvious that I was being an idiot.” She chuckled. “You always were, and still are, perfect.” She grew serious again. “No matter if there’s light or darkness in your heart.” 

“I don’t—“

“You’re perfect to me.” Heejin cupped her face. “Maybe being stubborn got you into a lot of the places you were. Maybe you were too noble and only thought of helping the other people in this, not yourself.” 

“Maybe I’m not strong enough to pursue what I want?” Hyunjin suggested. 

“Maybe.” She nodded. “But you’re strong enough to stick with your decisions. You’re strong enough to do what you have to.” Her thumb brushed across Hyunjin’s cheek, the motion slow. “Which is why whatever you want to do now, I’ll do that too.” A pause. “Even if you left.” The last word was barely a whisper. 

“But you wouldn’t want it.” 

Heejin shook her head. “You didn’t want to either.”

“But it didn’t work,” Hyunjin told her. 

“I’d try. Actually try.” Heejin looked so certain, so sure of herself. 

It stunned Hyunjin that she’d be willing to try. Just because she knew now that Hyunjin loved her. She still couldn’t believe that Heejin had thought she hadn’t. Hyunjin had spent years trying not to feel those things, but she’d never managed to chip away at those emotions. If anything, they’d strengthened over the years. She’d watched Heejin devote almost all of herself to her duties. The already existing respect she’d had for the girl had almost doubled then. Seeing her now, even that respect was getting stronger. 

“All I need is for you to be okay,” Heejin said. “That attack, when you’d lost your magic,” her eyes shuttered, “you being safe is what matters. You being happy is more important than you being with me.” 

Hyunjin didn’t think it was possible to love Heejin more. And she’d been proven wrong. 

“You do know that even if I did leave,” Hyunjin said slowly, “I’d be somewhere you could find me.” 

Heejin nodded. “Jinsoul’d never let you go into complete hiding.”

She kissed her cheek. “Just,” she started, “if we do come back, unless you’re absolutely sure there’ll be others on our side, don’t step in.” She took her hand. “I mean that. Not just our friends, but more than that.” 

“There will be,” Heejin said. “And you’re not going to be sent away. You’re only leaving if that’s what you all want.” 

Again, there was that certainty. The one Hyunjin could only admire. It didn’t dispel any of her worries. If they did go back to camp, she’d need to find Haseul first, tell her to keep Heejin from stepping in when she wasn’t supposed to. 

Hopefully she’d know to do that even without Hyunjin telling her. 

Unless Haseul stepped in as well. Then they’d lose two elders they needed for the future. 

“Whatever happens,” Heejin wrapped her arms around her, “it’ll be okay.” 

“Shouldn’t I be telling you that?” It was hard not to think about how her eyes had been filled with tears. How the thought of her leaving had affected Heejin. 

Was this the result of the uncertainty being lifted? Heejin’s happiness now? Or had Heejin just found the strength to face that reality? 

Heejin kissed her once more. “You already did.” 

______

Gowon forced herself not to cry. She’d failed so many times. She couldn’t do that now. Not when she was alone. It’d be more pathetic than before. 

She couldn’t even face her without wanting to hide away. She couldn’t say something without feeling her heart twist further, sinking into itself at the same time. 

The bond was broken. And it’s cracks had gone only to her. 

The only good thing was that Hyejoo had been spared from being broken by it. 

And maybe it was also good that only Gowon had been hurt by it. She deserved it. She was the reason why the bond was shattered. She was at fault for Hyejoo's pain, as well as her own. 

Gowon’s legs felt weak, but she forced them to stay upright. Alone in the forest, without the light from her skin, it felt good. She was surrounded by silence, and even the pure one of the night was a strange comfort for her. 

Most people hadn’t paid much attention to the light she had. They’d known it’d changed. She wondered if the elders or seers had known exactly what’d happened, and just passed the message around that she wasn’t dying. 

Or the change had just been so subtle. It’d taken Jungeun coming back from a three month trip to notice that Gowon’s hair had taken on a grey sheen. 

And for someone who’d been away this entire time, the changes were seen as sudden. Everything made more severe than they should’ve been. 

Hyejoo pushing her for the answer made little sense. It hurt to have to deny her the truth, but Gowon couldn’t tell her. Her not knowing was better than her finding out what was actually wrong.

She'd figured something out, or at least had a suspicion. 

Gowon's light _had_ changed. Not the one she always called upon, but the light that was purely her own. That’d changed. It was the reason why she got spouts of cold before those vanished. It was the reason for some her pain, but not all of it. It was one of the many reasons why _she'd_ changed. 

Gowon tried to reign in her frustration. She was lashing out again. It was the last thing Jiwoo and Sooyoung needed, nor did they deserve it. And yet they bordered on suffocating her. They had before and they did now. She knew she was being unfair, but she couldn’t help but feel trapped when they tried to understand. She was almost convinced they couldn’t.

Then again, she'd never been able to explain it. Not really. With the two being bound, it was so obvious that she couldn’t say too much. A broken bond would hit both of them too close to home. They were already on unsteady grounds. 

Gowon looked around the forest. She’d been able to get away quickly. And far. 

She hadn’t usually paid much mind to it, but there’d been times when she’d been in tears, but no spirit had come to attack her. 

Was it because the spirits felt a familiarity with her instead of the usual hunger? 

“I’m not here to hurt you,” a voice said. 

Gowon summoned her light immediately. She hadn’t noticed their presence. She’d been too distracted. 

Then she felt a pressure in her mind. It didn’t close around anything, but it was enough of a threat. 

A mental fae. 

She saw him then, the illusion spell falling away. They could muffle their steps, breathing, and even heartbeat. It was a magic they almost all used to flee, but of course, some used it to ambush you. 

Gowon quickly looked around. No one else was there. 

And she hadn’t been killed yet. 

“Told you,” he said. “That’s not why I’m here.” A pause. “I’m Torrin.” 

She tightened her grip on her weapon.

“I know,” a small smile, “you hate it when we do that.” 

“There’s a very good reason for that.” Gowon knew he was expecting her to drop her weapon. She just lowered it. “What do you want?” 

“He told me I needed to talk to one of you,” Torrin shrugged, “said I’d know who when I got here. And now I do.” 

She frowned. “Why?” Why would Alluin even have her in that consideration? With all he knew about her, all the mental fairy would know, killing her was the next logical step. 

Torrin shook his head. "He didn't send me to kill you, but to find those changing." 

Hyejoo’s reaction came back to her. How she'd tried again and again to know what was happening. Had she known already? Or just suspected it?

He nodded. "Alluin taught the first of you. He can do so for the rest.” 

Gowon stiffened. “He wants to recruit them?” 

“Them?” The fairy raised an eyebrow. “You’re one of them as well, aren’t you?” 

She nearly swung at him. He stiffened, as if expecting the blow. “Stay out of my head,” she whispered. She let the light seep more into her skin. 

The pressure on her mind remained. “You need to learn how to control that darkness,” he said. “All of you do. I’ve seen some of what he knows.” 

Gowon scoffed. “Studied it too?” 

“He doesn’t let me.” Torrin looked at her. She hated the way he did it, as if she were a specimen. “But for magic to come later in life, for it to change,” he shook his head, “those are questions I’ve had since I first heard of the fire elf coming into your ranks.” 

She felt cold the moment she heard that. 

“I’m not here to hurt her,” the fairy said. 

Gowon shook her head. “You won’t find anyone to take back. Not here.” None of them would turn away. They'd never fight against the Astra. Even if Hyejoo hated them, she wouldn't hurt them. 

“You’re all outsiders,” Torrin replied. “You won’t have a place here once they find out.” 

“They won’t go with you,” Gowon retorted. 

“What about you?” 

“You can read my mind,” she snapped. “That should be answer enough.”

“It is.” His voice was too soft. She wanted him to be just as irritated as she was, but of course, he was patient. Most fairies were. “You don’t want to stay here.” 

Gowon’s hands were shaking. She tried to force them into fists to still them. It didn’t work. 

“You wanted to leave the moment you saw her break from that cage,” Torrin continued. “You didn’t stop her or tell anyone you’d seen her. You wanted to go after her, but you didn’t know if she’d kill you or not.” A pause. “And as time went on, you almost wished you had, that you’d taken the chance. You wouldn’t have minded if she’d gotten her revenge on you.” 

“Get out,” Gowon said, her voice shaky. 

“You get too reckless when you’re angry, especially now,” Torrin said. “Fighting me now will mean you lose.”

“Lose what?” she asked. 

“We can help you,” he replied. “He’ll give you a place, proper purpose. You won’t be hated.” He met her eyes. She got angrier just looking at the calm in them. “I could make her forget.” A smile started to form. 

Gowon froze. He didn’t even have to say who he meant. 

“That’s right,” he said. “I know how much you miss her. I know that,” his eyes shone, “without her your family’s incomplete. _You_ are incomplete.” 

“Stop talking.” She felt cold. A pit in her stomach was twisting, dragging itself through her. 

It made her think of warm black eyes paired with her favourite smile. A high pitched laugh coupled with crinkled eyes. It made her think of a tight embrace that was the safest place. 

Then she realised he was pulling at those memories, making her think of what she missed most. 

“I know that you’re a shell of yourself.” His voice had turned gentle. “You’re always in pain. What if that bond could be fixed? I just have to make her forgive you.” 

Forgiveness.

Gowon laughed. 

Torrin frowned, taken aback. 

“Forgive me?” Gowon repeated. “You think taking memories will heal that?” She focused in on herself and grabbed hold of the light in her heart. She took some of it out and let it appear in front of his eyes. It barely hurt, but she knew she’d feel that emptiness for a few days. She already felt it now, a gaping hole in her heart. 

The light was grey with speckles of white. The light made up only half of the knife. The rest was the colour of coal, black smoke curling away from it and around her hand. Gowon had seen this a few times. She wondered if the fairy knew what that meant. 

She grabbed his arm and twisted it. Then she pulled him up. Somewhere along that movement, she managed to dislocate his shoulder, earning a cry. 

“Forgetting won’t take away what I did to her,” Gowon whispered. “And you didn’t read my mind right.” She dug her fingers into his arm, sinking her nails into the skin. She drew blood. 

He tried to get away, but the light she’d given him had made him weak. Her light had never really had an energising effect on others. She was grateful for that. It also dampened his abilities. She could feel how he tried to force himself into her head, to control her. All she felt was a stabbing to her mind, but her actions were all her own. She pushed back, letting him see some of her worser thoughts, some of her memories. 

“What,” he breathed out through his nose, “do you mean?” There were tears in his eyes. He winced when she showed him the memory of the week after Hyejoo's banishment. She'd taken her time with a vampire. Torrin would be seeing their terror. 

“If you’d looked properly,” she could feel the blood seeping onto her fingers, “you would’ve known that I’d never let you touch her mind.” The light of her heart transformed into a knife. 

She let the fairy go and took it. It almost burned her hand. Her skin felt frozen. The pain was there now. It was both from his magic and the ache of the bond. Somehow that’d gotten stronger again. 

“I know what happened,” Torrin said, backing away. Finally, he didn’t look calm anymore. He looked afraid. “I know she’s hurt and I know you could still have her.” 

Gowon rammed her foot onto his leg. There were a series of horrible cracks as she crushed it. 

He screamed. 

“It’s not about having her,” Gowon told him. “It’s not about her forgiving me.” She knelt down beside him. “She never has to.”

He looked terrified. There was a dull pressure on her mind. He was still trying to save himself. The pressure was quickly fading. 

“And I’ll never forgive myself.” She sank the knife into his chest. 

______

“This was my fault,” Hyejoo was saying. “I didn’t know what would happen. Not really.”

Jungeun put a hand to her shoulder. “No one go hurt,” she said. “And this would’ve happened eventually.” She looked to Yerim. “The light wasn’t coming back, was it?”

Yerim shook her head. She’d seen her reflection in the river. One of her eyes had turned black, with a single white crescent at the base of it. The other was so much darker than normal. Her entire body felt cold, but not freezing. Both her eyes felt heavy. 

But she didn’t get a headache anymore. She could see the light, and while it was extremely bright, she could follow the routes it took. The shadows were so much more visible to her. She could see the differences between them. Jiwoo had once told her that she’d always tried to find those differences, but she never had. When they’d fought against vampires, it’d always been Chaewon who’d picked up on those, while Jiwoo had been looking into their futures. It made sense now that Chaewon was the only one able to do that. 

“So it’s not anything you’re at fault for,” Jungeun told Hyejoo. The smile on her face was warm. Yerim had seen it so many times and it’d always given her comfort. 

It did the same for Hyejoo now. 

“How’re you feeling?” Jinsoul asked softly. She took Yerim’s hand without any hesitation. Even with the change, she wasn’t afraid of her. 

That reassured Yerim more than any words could. She hadn’t been afraid of taking the darkness, even when it’d hurt, even when she’d felt something shift in her heart. She hadn’t even been afraid of what the Astra would think. 

But she had been afraid of what Jungeun and Jinsoul would think. They’d been united by the light and now that was gone. 

Yet Jinsoul was looking at her as if nothing had changed. Jungeun seemed almost relieved by the change, though Yerim still didn’t know exactly why. 

“Weird,” Yerim admitted. “Really different.” Something in her was heavier than normal, she wasn’t sure if it was her heart, or just her entire body. She’d gotten back the strength she’d been lacking. Ever since the spirit, she’d been missing that. She hadn’t realised how much until she’d gotten a part of her magic back. “But better.”

Jinsoul smiled, squeezing her hand lightly. 

“Does anyone know?” Hyejoo asked. “The seers?”

“I don’t know,” Jungeun said. 

“They might,” Yerim shrugged, “my path still has light, but it isn’t the same.” 

The three looked at her. 

She realised then that she was probably being very calm. A big contrast to Hyunjin as well. She hoped she was alright. 

“I’ve had to face a change like this before,” Yerim told them. _Twice._

Jungeun nodded. There it was again: understanding. Yerim could see the shadows, as well as the outright darkness that still clung to her. It hadn’t been anything Hyejoo could take away. It belonged to Jungeun just as the light of her mind did. The longer Yerim looked at it, the more she could feel the guilt that followed Jungeun. She even started to feel a strange hatred there, one directed only at Jungeun. It hurt to see it. 

“But what do we do now?” Hyejoo looked between them. “What if they do the same thing they—” She faltered. “The same thing they did to me?”

“They won’t,” Jungeun said. 

Jinsoul’s grip on her tightened. “And I wouldn’t let them if they did.” There was a surprisingly dark look in her eyes. 

Yerim could see flickers of darkness within Jinsoul, much sharper than the light she held. It was starting to hurt her head to see that light. 

“And,” Jungeun looked to the sky once, “it’s never been more obvious that the darkness isn’t evil than it is now. It can help us more than anything else.” She grimaced. “But they’ll be scared.”

“Do you want to wait?” Jinsoul asked, turning back to Yerim. She looked hesitant. Distrustful of the Astra. 

Hyejoo looked the same. Yerim could feel their unease, their worry, more pronounced than she’d ever felt it. 

The only person who didn’t seem worried was Jungeun, yet Yerim could still feel it. She was hiding it, but it still wasn’t as much as the other two. 

Yerim felt somewhere in between. She didn’t want to put a lot of faith in the Astra, but she needed to have some hope as well. She couldn’t fully expect the worst either. At least not yet. 

“It’ll look worse if I wait,” Yerim said. “But we’re not saying anything about Hyunjin until she wants to.” And she had no idea when that would be, but it’d happen. Hyunjin wouldn’t reject the chance to have magic again. Being without it had eaten at her more than she’d let on. 

And of course it had. 

Then she felt something shift. She saw their paths change in one single direction. At the end of it, she could feel a very different darkness to anything around her. It felt like rage. Murder. 

At the same time, Hyejoo gasped, a hand on her chest. 

Yerim saw threads of black extending from that same place. 

“Chae,” she whispered. Then she collapsed. 

______

Olivia didn’t know what was waiting for her. That just made it worse. 

As she ran, she was wondering why she even cared. Maybe she could feel the pain in her chest, and maybe it meant that something was happening to Gowon. 

But wasn’t that what she’d wanted? 

“What do you see?” Olivia asked. 

“She’ll be fine,” Yerim replied. Can’t say if it’ll really be good or not.” A pause. “I never can with her.” Jinsoul and Jungeun were at her side, despite the latter actually not being allowed to run. Yerim had already told them not to go to the camp. Whatever was happening, they needed to know what it was _before_ anyone in camp knew. 

What was that supposed to mean? Did that mean people were actually noticing what was wrong with Gowon, but had stopped addressing it? 

Then there was a scream. It didn’t belong to Gowon, but Olivia still recognised the voice.

She broke into a sprint. 

The screams kept going. Olivia felt her chest twisting. She could feel a strange satisfaction, but also a quickly forming fury. Hatred joined it, but it felt like something that’d stewed for a long time. Olivia knew it well, but none of those emotions were hers.

When she focused on it, trying to distinguish between them, she saw Gowon as she’d seen her before. Bright eyes filled with warmth and mischief. She saw her golden hair, but also the bright blue she’d gotten after drinking a potion for a bet. She heard her laugh, something that’d been driven far back into her memory. 

Yerim gasped. 

Olivia’s stomach lurched when she saw what’d made the others stumble to a halt. 

Gowon was kneeling beside a body, her arms covered in blood. In her right hand, there was a dagger of both light and darkness. 

But what struck her was the look in her eyes. It was empty. She didn’t look stunned or shocked, only numb. 

Olivia recognised him. Torrin. She’d also been hesitant around him, avoiding any contact. He was always looking through your mind, not to find an advantage, but to know why you were with Alluin—what had happened to you. And the last thing she wanted was for someone to be in her head. 

His eyes were half open. The shirt was torn in several places. He’d been stabbed several times. 

“Chaewon?” Jungeun called. She was moving closer, but slowly. 

The dagger fell from Gowon’s hand. She looked up. “He was a mental fae.” 

Olivia felt cold. Gowon sounded detached. Lifeless almost. It wasn’t right.

She looked to the shadows, only to see that they’d gathered around her. She saw the long shadow of guilt and shame that’d never left her, but there was also the darkness of murder and anger. Something Gowon had never had before. Olivia had always known that, even without her magic. 

“It’s okay,” Jungeun said softly. “We can’t interrogate them anyway.”

That was true. Mental fae managed to evade most magics that influenced the mind and a lot of the time. Emotions were an exception to that, but almost no emotional fae would agree to an interrogation. 

Gowon’s light subdued, sometimes it even took the pain away, but usually it drained your energy. That’s how she’d fought the fairy and survived. 

With a start, Olivia remembered that her light had also left people cold before. It wasn’t always the case, but sometimes. 

“He was here for us.” Gowon wasn’t looking at the body. 

“For us?” Yerim repeated. “You mean—”

“Everyone who’s changing,” Gowon said. “Or changed.” 

That meant Alluin knew. 

Olivia felt as though she’d been plunged into icy waters. Was this how he’d known to come to her? Did he have some variation of the sight? 

A flare of anger rose in her. 

Except this time it wasn’t at Gowon or any of the other Astra here. It was at Alluin. 

He was trying to pick away at them. At the same time, he was sending more people to their deaths. Did he expect them to succeed? Or did he know they’d die? 

Either way, he was managing to chip away at them, even though he was losing people. He was attacking their strength, draining it. 

Gowon met Olivia’s eyes. Finally, there was some emotion there, but it was shame. “I still don’t know what happened to me.” She looked away. The dagger flew into her hand. The light within it was grey. The darkness was mostly black, but it wasn’t like her own. Still, it was far from being anything close to light. 

It melted into her skin, going straight for her heart. She didn’t flinch. She relaxed instead. 

Olivia saw it then. Gowon wasn’t surrounded by light. She didn’t have too much darkness in her heart either. She had both. That’s why she’d changed. Maybe that was why the rest had practically ignored it. They’d just seen her light. 

“I can send him back,” Gowon said. She was looking at Yerim, a shielded expression, but there was still something gentle there. “You can.” Her eyes widened. “Oh.” 

“I’ll do it,” Jungeun was shaking her head, “you should,” she trialed off. 

The smile that appeared was hard to look at. “Get cleaned up?” She looked down. There was blood across her clothes too, even droplets on her face. 

Olivia hadn’t seen her like this in a long time. She’d never seen Gowon look so ditched from a fight she’d had. Was that the darkness? It couldn’t have let to something like this. Not really. 

“I don’t want you being traced back to this.” Gowon stared at the ground. “They don’t need more reasons to try again.” A long stretch of moonlight appeared in her hands. It was grey and white. Tainted. “It’s fine. I’ll tell them what happened myself.”

“What _did_ happen?” Olivia asked. 

Gowon started. She looked at her once before looking back at the dead fairy. She began to carve the circle around him. 

“He came once I was alone,” she said. “Told me he was waiting to be able to talk to one of us.” She paused, eyes locked on the ground. “Said that Alluin sent him, that he could teach us.” The next motion she made was sharp, wrenching her blade through the dirt. “And he offered to—I think he would’ve taken us there.”

She wasn’t saying everything. 

Olivia almost pressed her for it. 

Then the reality of it all settled in. Gowon had been dealing with this hybrid form of light for some time. She’d slowly been taken by it. Now the explanations were here. The proof of change was here. 

Gowon finished with the runes. Her voice sounded eerie as she sang the rite. Maybe because she’d just killed him. Or maybe because there was no tremor in her voice. 

Yerim caught her eye. She looked worried. Jinsoul was staring at Gowon, tears in her eyes. Jungeun had moved to kneel down beside Gowon. She hadn’t said anything yet. 

Then someone was running over. Two of them. Olivia knew who they were, but she stayed where she was. She wasn’t going to run from this. 

“Chae,” Chuu was at her side, “are you okay?” She gasped when she saw the body. 

Gowon flinched. “Fine.”

Yves was staring at Gowon’s hands. Pain was evident on her face. 

The fairy sank into the earth then.

Gowon closed her eyes. Jungeun put a hand over her bloody one. 

Olivia found her voice. “How long?” 

They all looked at her. 

Gowon was the last to. When she met her eyes, there still wasn’t any resolve there. She still looked emotionless. 

“A few years.”

“And you’re still allowed to stay.” She felt her anger finally start to form. Why did the anger only come now? She knew why they hadn’t seen it, or at least why it hadn’t been alarming to them. 

Gowon just shook her head. “They don’t know.” She looked down. "No one does unless they look far enough." 

Olivia thought of Hyunjin and Yerim. The Astra would know then. It was only a matter of time until Gowon’s actual magic showed through. 

“That could be what’s poisoning you.”

Something flickered in her eyes. It was acceptance. “Maybe.” She pushed herself to her feet. “I have to tell them what happened,” she said. “More could be coming.” Then she glanced at Yerim, the smallest hint of a smile appearing, one with actual warmth in it. “I won’t tell.”

She wasn’t lying. 

Gowon stumbled. Chuu reached out to steady her. She pushed her away, making her stumble. 

“You didn’t have to come,” she spat. Anger was there now, replacing the emptiness completely. 

“But your path—” 

“It disappeared?” Gowon asked. “Or did it just darken?” She started walking away. “Learning the difference might do you good,” she said under her breath. 

Chuu flinched. Both followed. 

“Chae,” Sooyoung sounded shaken, but an edge had entered her voice. “That’s not fair.” They were getting further away. 

“Oh really?” She scoffed. “ _Now_ you’re on her side? What did that take?”

“Hey,” her voice softened, “there’re no sides. It’s just us.”

Silence.

 _Just us_. It hadn’t taken long to see how the three had pulled away from the rest, even if some of them were still on their side. 

“Sorry,” Gowon whispered. “You’re right, that—” She broke off. 

Olivia felt some of the shadows flow towards Gowon. She could feel the surge of shame. Those emotions were never far from her. From any of them. 

And she’d be an idiot to know the reason for that. She almost relished in the fact that the guilt was still eating at them, at Gowon most of all. What stopped her was the dread she felt for what that actually meant. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was longer than planned, but it's been a while since the last update. Also, a lot of things were happening, some of which I'd planned for a little while. In other cases, scenes I'd thought would go one way, namely the extensive scene between Hyunjin and Heejin, went a little differently compared to what I'd originally planned. I'd actually thought that conversation would've happened earlier in the story, without the added knowledge of Hyunjin's darkness, but it never felt right. Those two are another pair that are very clearly a pair (for the most part), but there've been circumstances keeping them apart. Priad's perspective regarding the bond, as well as Heejin does feel rather sudden. However, it's partially because he's not a big part of the story, and putting in more scenes for that was not what I wanted, especially considering how long this story already is. 
> 
> I'd also ended up reorganising the chapter, because the way the events are happening is more or less parallel to one another. However, it would really have been a break in tone if I'd have put 2jin after what was happening with Gowon. I also didn't want to make things too confusing. Just to clear things up, however, Gowon does have darkness, but she still has some control over light. Hers is tainted, however, while the triplet line have control over darkness (except for Yerim, because she's got her previous magic + foresight). 
> 
> I also apologise for the lack of Yeojin in this story, as well as others you feel have been 'under-written'. I'd wanted to be more equal in their stories, as well as to be able to better explore her character, but she hasn't been as central to the plot. There've been parts where I've finally been able to write about her, or from her pov, but mostly not really. It tends to fluctuate on that end.
> 
> If you have any questions, please do ask. I'll answer them as best I can without spoiling what'll be happening. Would really love to know your thoughts on 2jin and the place they are (is it a good one? or still undecided?), or what happened with Gowon and the aftermath of that. There was quite a bit of new information here, so if you've any predictions/speculations, those are also wonderful to read when I see them too. 
> 
> Hope you're all doing well and are staying healthy. See you in the next chapter.


	38. Not this time

“How’d this happen?” Freya looked between them. “What changed?” She didn’t look as hostile as Yerim had expected. Both Freya and Nuala had been surprising during this whole thing. 

But they’d also been fine with bringing them into another clearing, one where they’d be in the centre, while the other Astra watched all of this unfold. 

The only difference was that some hadn’t gathered in that circle, but near them. 

Yuol frowned then. “Did you do this?” His gaze went to Hyejoo. It turned into a glare. 

Hyunjin moved in front of her. “We’d changed before,” she said sharply. “Of all things to do tonight, don’t jump to conclusions.” 

He looked taken aback. “Watch your mouth.” It was his way of saying be careful. 

“Hyejoo did nothing,” Hyunjin said. “We’re like her. The moment we were attacked, that part became clear.” She explained how they’d lost the light, how they’d felt empty without it. 

Yerim was surprised at how calm she sounded. She’d accepted the darkness without it being from Hyejoo as well. Yerim figured it would’ve been the same with her. 

She looked to Jinsoul and Jungeun then. They were both close to her, ready to jump in if they had to. If things did go bad, she didn’t doubt that they’d intervene. It wouldn’t matter if they risked being banished, they’d try to defend the three of them. Even with the risk, Yerim was grateful they were there. 

“It wasn’t clear before,” Yerim said when Hyunjin finished. “But I think it was supposed to happen.” She looked for Eline then, wondering how her next words would play out. “I still have the sight. I regained it after some time had passed. I didn’t lose it when I took the darkness.”

There was uproar among the rest. Revealing that she had the sight would divide their opinions on the darkness—redirect their confusion too. 

“It’s true.” Eline’s voice pierced through the rest.

Kolina whirled around, hurt evident in her eyes. “You knew?” 

Yerim felt a pang of guilt. Even if Kolina was nowhere near as close to her as the others, she could still understand why she felt slightly betrayed. She hadn’t known about Jiwoo or Yerim. She probably thought her own sight had failed her. 

“That she didn’t lose her sight,” Eline sent a small nod Yerim’s way, “shows the connection to the moon hasn’t been fully lost.” 

Her eyes widened. Was Eline going to _defend_ them? 

The elder seer’s words sparked further debate. Yerim tuned most of it out, choosing instead to turn to Hyunjin and Hyejoo. Were they safe? Or could something still shift? 

“But then what’s the rest supposed to mean?” Adolar asked. He was someone who led most long-distance hunts. “That connection means little if they have so little light left.” 

Yuol nodded. “They can’t fulfil one of our greatest duties.” 

Turning the spirits. 

“There could be a new one,” Haseul said. She’d found out with the rest of them, but she hardly looked shaken by the revelation. Yerim wondered if that was because she could hide it well. “The bright spirits are changing, as are the dark ones.” She pulled up her sleeve, revealing a harsh scar. “Both types hurt us,” she continued. “And only the darkness can be used against the malevolent bright spirits.”

Hyejoo’s brow was furrowed as she spoke. Yerim hoped it wasn’t because she was going to say something against it. They could settle all of this later. 

“So we’ll just have three people to send against them?” Adolar raised a brow. “We get attacked by them everywhere. Three’s hardly enough,” he peered at Hyejoo, “and that’s assuming we’d even have three to protect those groups.” 

Hyejoo’s eyes narrowed. “You think I wouldn’t?” Her voice was no longer a rasp, but it still rarely rose above her normal volume. She’d usually whined before, either teasing someone or chewing them out. 

“We still don’t know what exactly you did for him,” he said. “How many times were you sent to recruit someone and ended up trying to kill them instead?” 

Yerim felt a flicker of anger in the darkness around Hyejoo. 

“I didn’t go to _recruit_ anyone,” she spoke slowly. “And when they did try to make me their assassin, I left.” The shadows were curling in around her. 

“And nothing’ll stop you from leaving now,” Teveril said. 

The message was clear. Hyejoo wasn’t an Astran anymore. She didn’t belong here. 

And that applied to Hyunjin and Yerim as well. 

“That’s not what we’re here for,” Jungeun said then. “Hyejoo’s healed a lot of us. We already know what her magic brings. Having three is even better.” She sent a pointed look Adolar’s way. “And you always manage to bring back the wounded fast enough, don’t you?” 

Yerim forced herself to keep her expression blank. Jungeun had been on hunts with him before. She always thought he pulled back too soon. Then again, she thought most people who didn’t push on to finish a task pulled back too soon. 

Adolar shrugged it off. “We need to know the risks.” 

"The risks come with sending them away," Sooyoung spoke for the first time then. "No one else here can take the darkness in the amounts they can. No one can else fight a bright spirit. You send any of them away, and you turn away for no other reason than pride." 

"Pride?" Yuol repeated. 

Sooyoung held his gaze. "Two times we forced people who wielded the darkness out. Only once were you proved right that it was dangerous and you hid his existance, because you were the reason for it. Now you're seeing it isn't, not completely." Guilt seeped into her eyes as she spoke. "And you don't want the evidence for that to remain here."

"You voted for her to go as well," he retorted. 

Yerim glanced at Hyejoo, only to see her watching the exchange, her expression unreadable. 

"I did." Sooyoung didn't drop her eyes, even though the shadows of shame were resurfacing. 

Then a group came into view. Someone held another by the arm. Her hands were free of blood, but her clothes were still stained by it. Chaewon. The person dragging her was Lyriil. Another elder. He was one of the most skilled at looking into the past. Had he been able to see what Chaewon had done? 

“The threat the seers sensed. It was another was sent by Alluin,” he said sharply. “And he’s already dead.” 

“Don’t act as if he wasn’t a mental fae.” Chaewon ripped her arm from his grasp, making him stumble slightly. “He wouldn’t have given any answers.” 

“Alluin wants the changed ones on his side,” Lyriil said into the gathering. “He knew this was coming.” His eyes met Yerim’s. A shadow of anger was there, one of hatred was growing. It was mainly directed at Alluin. “We can’t risk them staying here.”

“You want to risk him getting them onto his side?” Haseul asked. Her anger was a lot stronger. It’d been shoved down over the years. It was back now. “You send them away, he’ll just try and use that.” 

“We keep them here,” Yuol stepped forward, “and they could turn on us when he comes.” 

Yerim felt a flicker of rage spark in Jinsoul. She immediately turned to her. 

“Don’t say anything,” she whispered in _arcesh_. “Please.” 

Jinsoul looked at her, eyes burning too bright, but nodded. 

Yerim met Jungeun’s eyes, hoping she’d understand. 

Jungeun nodded once, before taking Jinsoul’s hand. She was angry as well, but it was more contained. 

“We’ve seen what Alluin does,” Yerim said. “I won’t ever be a part of that.” 

Lyriil was already shaking his head. “You really have no idea,” he muttered, his gaze shifting to Hyunjin, “Alluin has so much he can use. In all three of you.” He grit his teeth. “We lost more than one the day he turned. Not only those who minds he destroyed,” he spat, “but the few whose anger he used to turn against us.” 

Hyunjin didn’t respond. She didn’t have to. People knew her parents hadn’t turned on the Astra. Others had. 

“I know you’ve resented us,” Lyriil continued, eyes still on Hyunjin. He looked to Yerim then. “You never felt as though you belonged. He’ll offer you a place where you do.” Then he turned to Hyejoo. “And you hate us.” 

“They’d never turn against us,” Heejin said then. She was angry, but it wasn’t showing through. Not this time. 

Even so, Yerim saw the panic in Hyunjin’s eyes. 

“Hyejoo’s had the chance to do it a few times. She wouldn’t,” Heejin looked around, meeting the eyes of the other Astra who’d gathered here, “and don’t you see that staying here, showing us what’s happened, was a greater risk than just leaving was?” She looked at the three of them once. “Your first instinct is to restrain and remove the threat,” she met Hyejoo’s eyes once, “it could’ve easily happened here. And it would’ve worked.” Her jaw tightened. “But they still came here to tell all of us what’s changed. If they were who you think they are, they would have already gone to his side.” 

“That’s taking many leaps of faith,” Yuol countered. 

“Which I can do,” Heejin turned on him, “because I’ve known two of them my entire life, and I’d trust Yerim with my life several times over.” 

“But all three have changed,” Lyriil said. “The darkness can and has changed those it’s touched. Even people you’d have known all your life.” 

“I changed too,” Chaewon said then. 

Everyone stopped and looked. Yerim saw Jiwoo and Sooyoung's eyes widen. Neither had known, not even Jiwoo. 

The grey haired girl held a piece of light and darkness in her hands. “That’s why the fairy came to me,” she said. “Alluin will take all those who hate the Astra. And if they don’t, he’ll share his hatred with them, either teaching it to them or giving it.” A piece of the darkness rose into the air. 

Even from where she stood, Yerim could feel that hatred emanating from it. It was directed at Chaewon. Yerim had started to see that most of the darkness Chaewon held was like that. 

“Or he’ll offer us what we want,” she went on. “He’s taken fairies and elves into his ranks. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had others.” The darkness and light went back into Chaewon's skin. 

“He has vampires and witches,” Hyejoo said. “And enough to recruit others on a contract.” 

Contracts like Jungeun tended to go on. Those would be people who didn’t feel any respect for the Astra. They’d be able to fight them without considering the consequences. Especially if Alluin was offering the right rewards. 

“Alluin won’t be able to turn any of them,” Chaewon said, looking to the three of them. “We didn’t know what he wanted before he started sending people close to the camp. More would have joined had their intentions not been clear. He wants to attack us,” she turned to Lyriil, “you can’t let your hate for him blind you to what these three would and wouldn’t do.” Her eyes brightened slightly. That light was from certainty, but nothing more. “Yerim and Hyunjin changed because they’d lost it to those attacks,” she said. “But the darkness can’t change the mind.” 

“Yes it can—” Teveril started. 

“Not what we have,” she cut him off. “I’ve always been able to sense darkness and my light has always drained. It still does. As does this.” She summoned the darkness again. She let it hover in the air. “But there's no reason that could ever convince me to turn on you.” She looked to Eline then. “Or do you see that happening?” 

The seer shook her head. 

Freya finally spoke. “But when did you start to change?” She looked at the darkness, some of her impassive expression cracking. She wasn’t afraid, but unsettled. Yerim could even sense the slivers of fear that came with worry. 

"After her—Hyejoo's banishment.” Chaewon glanced at Hyejoo once before looking away again. She looked tired now, her eyes dim again. “That didn’t change my light. I only started to get the darkness after she was gone.” 

“And it was only me who took any darkness from Hyejoo,” Yerim added. 

Hyunjin nodded. “I took it from a shadow in the forest.” 

They started talking amongst themselves again. Yerim was torn between listening and just turning to Jinsoul and Jungeun. She chose the latter. 

“There’s people on our side this time,” Jungeun told her, taking her hand as well. “They won't do anything.” 

“But they could still force us out,” Hyunjin said. She was looking between the Astra. “A good amount still want to.” 

“They do that and we lose our way to heal the worst wounds,” Jinsoul replied. “Nuala won’t let that happen.” She was watching said healer now. 

Nuala was in what seemed to be an argument with both Yuol and Lyriil. 

Yerim still couldn’t bring herself to listen. She didn’t want to hear how many people were against them and how many were for them. How had Hyejoo managed it? How had she even been able to come back to them? 

She looked for her now, only to see her attention was elsewhere. 

Chaewon’s arms were around her own stomach. She looked both exhausted and nauseous. She wasn’t looking at anyone, not even Jiwoo or Sooyoung who’d come to her side. They both looked confused and shocked, but they were still there with her. 

“Might throw me out too,” she muttered, laughing once. “We’ll see.” 

“They won’t,” Sooyoung said. “They can’t.” She looked at Jiwoo, desperate. 

“I don’t know yet,” Jiwoo whispered. “But if they try that, I won’t let them. If they manage it, I’ll go with you.” 

Chaewon looked up then, frowning. “What?” 

Jiwoo nodded. “I won’t let someone be alone. Not this time.” She looked to Hyejoo then. The apology was clear. 

Hyejoo just looked away, but she didn’t blow up. That was at least some sort of progress. 

Yerim found herself looking at Chaewon again. She was sinking into herself. 

“We’ll put it to a vote,” Freya said, her voice carrying over everyone else’s. 

Hyejoo stiffened. Her eyes were flitting between all of them. Fear was quickly wrapping around her. 

Yerim saw how Chaewon looked up, alarmed. She looked at Hyejoo, worry filling her eyes. They’d been empty before.

“It’ll be okay,” Jungeun was saying. She went over to Hyejoo’s side. “This isn’t like last time. You’re free,” she whispered. Then she set her mouth in a line. In Korean, through the many discussions around them, she said, “and I’ll fight with you.” 

Yerim saw Jinsoul look up at that. She saw the dread then, followed by fear, before some sort of resolve came. 

Yerim knew full well that Jungeun would fulfil that promise. She’d fight against the Astra to protect them. Jinsoul would join her. 

And the two of them would probably get a lot of headway. Especially Jungeun. As much as it was hard to believe, she knew Jungeun could do it. 

It was as worrying as it was a relief. 

Hyejoo nodded, a weak smile appearing. “I know you would,” she said. “But it won’t come to that. Not this time.” 

“Who is the vote for?” Nuala asked, frowning. She came over to Yerim’s side. 

“The three with darkness,” Yuol said. “And her.” He looked to Chaewon. 

“Her?” Sooyoung repeated. Fury appeared in her eyes almost as quickly as the darkness came. 

Immediately, Chaewon grabbed her arm. “Don’t,” she hissed. The darkness didn’t surge around her. She had a grip on it. 

“Whether or not you’ll stay,” Freya continued. “All those in favour of their departure.” She looked around. 

A fair amount raised their hands, including Teveril, Kolina, Yuol, and Lyriil. Surprisingly, Priad didn’t raise his hand. 

Yerim looked away before she saw the rest. Of course there’d be people convinced. To them, they weren’t Astra anymore. 

Jinsoul took her hand, giving it a small squeeze. 

“And those in favour they stay?” Freya asked. She raised her hand in the next moment. 

Yerim looked this time. Heejin and the others raised their hands. Sooyoung and Jiwoo raised both their hands. 

More followed. Many more than before.

“It’s decided then,” Freya said. “They stay. All four of you.” She turned away, golden eyes dimmed. She stopped when she passed Hyejoo. “You’ll never forgive me And there’s no reason to.” She looked to the others. “But you’re still Astran,” she said quietly. “Even if you don’t have the light.” She walked away. 

Yerim could feel her exhaustion. She saw the same thing in Chaewon, but the glow in her eyes from before was gone. 

She met Yerim’s eyes once, before turning away. Sooyoung made to go after her, but Jiwoo caught her wrist. 

“Not this time,” Jiwoo whispered. 

Heejin’s arms were around Hyunjin and vice versa. Hyunjin was crying. 

Then Hyejoo was walking away as well. Her fear was fading, but traces of it still lingered. 

Jungeun followed her. 

Yerim went with her, Jinsoul close behind. 

Then Jungeun was running. 

“Wait,” Jinsoul started. 

“Not now,” Yerim patted her arm, “she’ll take it easy later.” 

She heard Hyejoo’s stifled sobs next. 

“I thought,” Hyejoo gasped. The next words didn't come. 

Yerim watched as Jungeun pulled her into her arms. 

“You thought it was going to happen again,” Jungeun said quietly. “And it didn’t.” Her jaw was clenched. The pain there was clear. It encircled them both. 

“It didn’t happen,” Hyejoo muttered, nodding slightly. She was trembling. “I knew it wouldn’t, but when–when,” she broke off. 

Jungeun rubbed her back. “I know,” she muttered. “But you’re staying if you want to." A small pause. "You're staying," she repeated.

She didn’t reply. 

“It’ll be okay,” Jungeun said quietly. 

Yerim looked to Jinsoul. She was watching, a careful edge to her eyes. There was worry too. 

Hyejoo sighed. “I know,” she said. “It’s just,” her voice dropped in volume, “just—“

“A lot,” Jungeun finished. She rested her chin on Hyejoo’s shoulder. “But none of that happened. You’re here. We’re all here.” She lifted her eyes, meeting Yerim’s first. _We’re okay,_ that said, even if the strength in her eyes looked more like a facade. 

It took a few seconds. Then Hyejoo pulled away. She wiped her eyes. 

“Are you okay?” She also looked to Yerim. 

Yerim just nodded. “Fine.” She didn’t want to think about what tonight meant. She didn’t want to remember who’d voted for them and who hadn’t. 

A hand slid into hers. The skin was warm. A lot warmer than her own. 

Jinsoul squeezed her hand once. 

“I’ll show you how it works,” Hyejoo said then. “We’ll find Hyunjin and I’ll teach you how to take away the darkness.” She got to her feet. “I’m not sure how much either of you can take.”

Jungeun stood with her. She didn’t look worried, but there was something to her gaze. 

Hyejoo was already walking off. Yerim nearly followed, but she lingered. 

Jinsoul let go of her hand. “I think she needs you,” she whispered. 

Yerim couldn’t help but think, _what about you?_ Jinsoul was stronger than she was, but she was nearing her limit. She would’ve fought for them if the Astra had turned on them. That was how far both Jinsoul and Jungeun would go. 

She wondered if Haseul would’ve done the same. There was a chance of that happening, same with Heejin and Yeojin. Jungeun had told her what they’d done after Hyejoo’s banishment. 

Then again, Hyunjin would’ve probably tried to stop them before they did that. Haseul wouldn’t have let Yeojin or Heejin turn against their people. 

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” Jungeun said. She smiled at her, but it looked strained. “It’ll be good for all of you to use that magic.” 

Yerim was reminded of when Jungeun left the tent if things got bad for her. How she unleashed her magic, burning the air. Sometimes she did it for an hour, other times she did it until hours after the sun had risen. 

Then she thought of how both Hyejoo and Hyunjin had cried. Hyunjin had been so relieved. Hyejoo had been reliving what’d happened before. 

Yerim nodded once, before going after Hyejoo. 

Her own eyes were dry. 

Behind her, she heard them talking. Yerim slowed down. 

“I have to go to her,” Jinsoul said. “I should’ve done it when this all started.” 

“You’re sure?” Jungeun asked. “I can go.” 

“No.” A long pause. “I don’t think you should.”

Jungeun sounded confused, but there was something else in her voice. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You know what she’s going through more than I do,” Jinsoul replied. 

“And?” 

Yerim found herself nodding along with Jinsoul. Jungeun couldn’t see how Chaewon was. Not now, even if Jungeun understood the place Chaewon had fallen into. Jinsoul didn’t want her to see it. 

Yerim didn’t want her to either. 

Then Jungeun scoffed. “You’re serious? I’m not saying that you going is a problem, but,” a short pause, “do you think I can’t handle it?” 

“That isn’t what I meant,” Jinsoul said. “I just—”

“You think seeing someone who hates herself for what she’s done pushes my limits?” Jungeun asked. “Having someone crawl through my _head_ does that. Reliving a killing spree over and over again does that.” 

Yerim heard Jinsoul try to talk, but Jungeun wasn’t stopping. She wondered how long this’d been building. There was no anger in the air. Not really. Only confusion, hurt, and frustration. 

“Just because you’re one of the only people who knows—who _sees_ any of that,” Jungeun’s voice sounded strained, “doesn’t mean you know what I can handle and what I can’t.” 

There was something she wasn’t saying. Even after so many years of being around Jinsoul, of them being as close as they were, Jungeun still wasn’t used to being cared about like that. Much of the time she accepted it, but there were moments when something shifted. Yerim still didn’t know why that was. 

“I know I don’t,” Jinsoul said softly. “I know it takes more than that to push you.” 

Yerim could hear the small tremor in her voice. 

She knew that Jungeun could hear it too. She’d probably spotted the same in her expression. 

The frustration faded immediately. 

There was a long silence. Yerim could almost see Jungeun’s frown, mind going from saying no, then maybe, and finally to yes. 

“Fine,” she said. “Whatever it is, we can talk about it tomorrow.” 

“Or later tonight,” Jinsoul said quickly. “We can see what we do next. The three of us.” 

Yerim smiled. To their credit, the two had managed to make sure she never felt left out. They were closer than family, even if two of them were somehow a lot closer than even that. She’d need to sit some things out a few times, trying to make it so that the two were alone for longer than a few hours. As much as she’d tried, they’d still not said the things they needed to. 

She’d mostly given up. 

“Okay,” Jungeun muttered. “Whatever you want.” She sounded tired. Then there were the sounds of her starting to walk.

Yerim felt a small rush of worry. Jungeun was the strongest person she’d ever met, but there was a part of her that was fragile. And when she was just between the two, she pulled away. She didn’t do it like some did, where they were genuinely unreachable. It felt like you could still talk to her and she’d still tell you if something was wrong, but she wouldn’t say everything. 

“Wait,” Jinsoul started. There was a hint of desperation there, as if she needed to take something back before Jungeun walked away. 

“We’ll talk about this tomorrow,” Jungeun said. 

Silence. Yerim wanted to, but she didn't go to either of them. Jinsoul was going to Chaewon, while Jungeun needed the time alone. She'd see them later. 

Or tomorrow. 

______

They’d taken up guard duty again. Just the two of them. The entire time, there’d been a silence she hadn’t been able to break, not even to talk about the darkness that Chaewon had. 

How they hadn’t known, Yves still couldn’t believe it. She should’ve seen it sooner. Chaewon had been taking in more darkness and her light had lost its glow. She should’ve known. 

There was a stretch of unspoken words between them, ones that might’ve helped, others that might’ve hurt. Yves had the feeling neither of them wanted to risk the latter coming out. 

Every time she saw Jiwoo, Yves was reminded of how they’d both acted. Jiwoo barely met her eyes when they were together, and she avoided her when she didn’t have to. And when they did speak, there was always an apology within her words, a caution that Yves could barely stand hearing. 

Yes, Jiwoo had lied to them. Yes, she hadn’t confided in them about everything she’d been facing. 

But she’d also spent all that time alone. She’d made her sight a burden that only _she_ would bear. 

_I don’t think there’s anything I wouldn’t trust you with._

Yves knew she meant that. She knew Jiwoo trusted them—her, but the feeling that that wasn’t true hadn’t faded. She still felt betrayed. Whenever she saw Jiwoo, she thought of that too. When Jiwoo talked about what she was seeing, how she referenced the future, now without the lies to hide behind, it hurt. Something so embedded in Jiwoo’s life, and Yves had never seen it until now. 

Yves had thought she’d known Jiwoo. She’d been aware that she didn’t know everything, that Jiwoo had kept some things to herself, specifically the moments when her smile had finally fallen away. She’d been there for some of those moments. She’d always seen enough to know that there was so much more to her than just a bright smile. 

That person was still here. She knew both those sides of her. The seer had been hidden and Jiwoo had lied, but she hadn’t completely put up a mask. 

Yves still saw the person who’d spend years trying to reach out to Chaewon and Hyejoo. Jiwoo had been so patient, even resilient when she’d gotten pushed away, sometimes gently, other times with shouts. 

But then that person had withdrawn, now weighed down by guilt for so many things. 

Yves broke from her thoughts when she heard someone. Then she saw Haseul walking through the forest. She looked to see if Yeojin was nearby. The last thing Haseul would be doing now is let Yeojin be on the periphery of camp alone. 

When she didn’t find her, she realised Haseul was coming over to both of them. 

Jiwoo didn’t look surprised. Of course she didn’t. 

“Didn’t feel like warning me?” Yves asked. 

Jiwoo smiled slightly. “I wasn’t sure if you’d stay.” She didn’t look at her. 

It shouldn’t have, but the words stung. 

“Dahyun will be coming tomorrow,” Haseul said. “They want her to go through each of their emotions, to see if there’s a connection there or not. They want to see if Chaewon can be,” she grimaced, “fixed.” 

Yves’s stomach twisted. “Fixed,” she repeated. “As in taking the darkness away?” Not helping the state Gowon was, independent of her magic. 

Haseul nodded. “Dahyun was coming anyway, but they see this as some sort of hope.” 

“You don’t?” 

She took a few seconds before she replied. “Can I walk with you?” Haseul asked. She looked a lot more tired than normal. “Before you ask, I am here to talk.” She met Yves’s eyes. “If that’s okay.” 

Yves just nodded. Over the years, she’d gotten used to not having her friends from before. 

That didn’t mean she didn’t miss them. Especially Haseul and Jungeun. Jinsoul too. 

“Is it about Chae?” Jiwoo asked. She wasn’t going to pad the conversation with pleasantries.

“Not just her,” Haseul said. She came to Yves’s side. “I didn’t know about any of that until right in that moment.” The corner of her lip twisted upwards. “I was a little surprised.” The little bit of humour was overshadowed by doubt. 

Yves knew what that felt like. To think you had an idea about what was going on around you, with the people closest to you, before finding out there was something completely different going on. 

“Do you know what happened with Chaewon before?” Yves asked. 

Her heart hurt just thinking of how she’d looked, blood coating her arms. It’d confirmed what Yves had been afraid of. Time hadn’t healed anything. It’d made it worse. 

Jiwoo had told her they needed to leave her alone for at least tonight. As much as she’d wanted to disagree, she knew Jiwoo was right. Chaewon had already lashed out at them. They were making her feel trapped. More than she already was. 

Haseul shook her head. “He tried his hand at getting someone on his side. The _only_ person he thought he had a chance to turn.” 

Yves tried to push down the anger she felt at that. “She’d never.” The other Astra suggesting that had hurt, but Haseul thinking that, it was almost worse. 

She raised her hands in surrender. “I know that,” she said. “I don’t think he did.” 

Jiwoo caught Yves’s eye. “Why?” 

She wanted to know that too. She also wanted to know why Haseul had come here now? They’d only ever talked when it came to the discussions or some other mandatory consulting Haseul insisted on keeping up. She’d done that with Teveril and Kolina, and then she’d extended that to mean Yves and Jiwoo. 

“He knew about the others and how the darkness would come to them. I think he knew about the bond as well.” Haseul looked around as she said that, as if careful that no one else would overhear it. “So he thought Chaewon would be desperate enough to want Hyejoo back. I think he has an idea about how it’s affecting her, maybe even how to help her, and he thought that would get her loyalty.” She pursed her lips. “Sending a mental fae was also an advantage he was trying to use.”

Yves felt herself start to get a headache. “So first, you think he knows everything a lot of us just found in the past _weeks_.” She grit her teeth. “And then you’re saying he can help her too?” 

“He might be able to,” she replied. “But that says nothing about him even keeping that promise for long. He probably hoped that Hyejoo would get her revenge that way and be on his side again,” she shrugged, “I don’t know enough about what he’s actually like, but I’m just going from what she said today and from what Hyunjin told me.” 

“Right,” Jiwoo nodded, “she’d heard about him.” 

“Met him too,” Haseul said. “Years before Hyejoo was even banished.” She looked disturbed at that. “He _knew_ what was coming.” 

“Do you think he has the sight?” Jiwoo asked. “Because from what I know, no one could’ve ever sensed that.” 

“It has to be something different,” Haseul replied. “I don’t know what, but I was hoping to find out soon.” 

Yves frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?” She suspected the worst already. People always said Yves was reckless, the same for Jungeun. They didn’t count Haseul into that, because she could explain herself better, but she could make her mind up faster than even Yves could. 

She smiled slightly. Then she looked to Jiwoo. “Is anyone nearby, or coming here?” 

Jiwoo shook her head. 

Haseul nodded once. “I’ve got a plan to learn more about Alluin and his people.”

Jiwoo drew in a sharp breath. “And if he knows you’re coming?”

She shrugged. “He hasn’t tried to off me, so either he doesn’t think I’m a threat, or he doesn’t know.” 

Reckless. 

“What’ve you done so far?” Yves asked. “Were these those times you were leaving? When you got back hurt?” 

Haseul’s brow rose. “Keeping track?” A hint of teasing crept into her eyes. “I’ve been trying to find them ever since I found out he even existed.” She shrugged once. “All I’ve really got is kinda what we’ve already seen. Hyejoo wasn’t the only one he tried to make into an assassin, but he succeeded with the others. He sent them on contracts, all sent out by either wealthy mortals, or the witches, vampires too.” 

“Two of those groups are mortal,” Jiwoo said. “Getting their favour is worthless.” 

“Getting their money and other gifts isn’t,” she replied. “He wants something in both the mortal world and ours. And then he gets more people on his side with each passing lifetime.” She looked faraway for a moment. “They all know who he is over there,” she said. “Some’re afraid, some respect them.” 

“You talked to them?” Yves felt her stomach twist. “They would’ve passed that on.” 

“When people hear of him, they ask. Some end up joining, others steer clear.” She tilted her head, as if to ask, _what’s the problem_? 

“How close did you get to them?” Yves asked. “How close are you planning on going?” 

“Never got close enough.” Haseul chuckled lightly. “I had enough sense not to go that close on my own.” 

“And now you think it’ll be better just the three of you? None of you can control darkness, which he can. He’s sent people here who’ve almost managed to kill us. He’s got _fae_ on his side.”

“Everyone he sent failed,” she said. “Maven and Hanna almost took Jungeun, but they still didn’t. The people he’s sent have been expendable, sent with the hope of something, not with the full intent of achieving something.” She shrugged. “Unless he’s that short-sighted, but that can’t be it.” 

They kept walking, making the round of camp. Yves wished she knew how to say the right thing to keep Haseul _here_. She never had. 

“I’ve got Vivi, who I’m very sure knows how to get out of situations like that, and Yeojin who needs to learn that.” Haseul smiled slightly. “Might be hard to believe,” she said. “But I know what I’m doing.” 

“I know that.” Yves sighed. “But what if it’s a mistake?” 

“We know too little about them. This’s just something where we’re trying to find his followers,” she replied. “The ones he’s _not_ sending our way are the ones he doesn’t want to lose. I need to know how far they’ll go for him, if they’re following him because they believe him, or if they don’t have anywhere else to go.” 

“So if they’re like the ones who attacked us,” Yves said. “Or if they’re like Hyejoo.” 

Haseul nodded. “Yuol’s been considering calling in everyone who owes us." Her voice turned harsh. "He wants to attack all of them. And if we’re killing people who don’t want us dead,” she broke off. She closed her eyes. “We don’t know enough. Hyejoo told me what she knew, but it wasn’t much.” 

“But he trained her,” Jiwoo looked pained by the words, “he took her in.” 

“He held her at arm’s length too,” Haseul’s eyes were on the sky now, “he didn’t tell her everything he wanted to do against the Astra. She didn’t know he’d want her to kill someone until she got the contract for it.” She let out a long breath. “And she didn’t care enough about everything else he wanted to do.” 

Yves almost smiled. How everyone else thought Hyejoo would ever turn on them, it both angered her and could’ve been funny in another world. If Hyejoo found something she loved, or something else that she could settle into for a long time, she wouldn’t question much else. Yves was usually the same, so was Chaewon, Hyunjin too. They let others handle that. 

Yves had always had Jiwoo to do that. Until she’d been pushed to the discussions and negotiations more and more over the years. 

“I should go with you,” Jiwoo said. “You need someone with the sight.”

“No offence.” Haseul gave her a smile. It had a surprising amount of warmth to it. “But you’re needed here more than I need you over there.. 

“And you’re not?” Yves asked. “You’re the one we all turn to. _You’re_ the one who gets the elders to listen, even if they don’t all agree. Freya listens to _you_.” 

“She listens to you too,” she replied. “If you’re convincing.” 

“Let me go instead,” Yves said. “We need you back here.” She didn’t miss how Jiwoo stiffened at that. 

“Chaewon needs you here,” Haseul said. “Even if she’s been pushing you away, both of you are the only constants she has right now.” She stopped walking, making them both turn to face her. “Does it look like I’m dying any time soon?” she asked Jiwoo. “Has something changed?”

“No,” Jiwoo said immediately. She’d already been looking. Was that her first instinct? To see if someone was safe, and for how long they were? “But it could still change. The moment they realise you’re there, or if you show yourself.” 

She smiled slightly. “That’s kind of what I’d expect if they’d actually noticed me.” 

Yves found her voice then. “Haseul, they hate us,” she said. “They catch any one of you, the only exception being Viian, they’ll kill you. Or worse.”

“I know,” Haseul replied. “Vivi will be able to get both of them out of danger.” 

“And you?” 

“I’ll be fine,” she just said. “But I need you to be ready. If you get word, anything at all, you’ll get the right people to wherever I am.” She started to turn around. 

Yves took her arm, letting go soon after. They were on much better terms than before, but she wasn’t going to push it. 

“What?” Haseul’s brow rose. A challenge, but without any malice.

“Why does this all sound like you’re planning to become their prisoner?” 

“I have to be prepared for it, don’t I?” 

Yves stomach twisted again, even more than before. “And what if you’re wrong and you don’t become a prisoner? What if he kills you the second you get there?” 

“I’m as much an asset as I am a threat,” Haseul said, as if it was simple. “He won’t kill me until I tell him what he wants.” 

“You don’t know what he can do!” Yves snapped. “What if he has an emotional fae? What if he has someone worse?” _What if he sends you somewhere no one can get you?_ The face of someone else who’d sunken far into the darkness filled her mind. If Haseul became someone like that too, and she could’ve stopped it—

A hand took her own. 

Haseul was giving her a painfully small smile. “He does something like that, to someone who wasn’t even alive when he was banished,” she said. “You’ll know he’s too far gone. Nothing that’ll happen now will be for nothing. I’ll make sure of it.” She squeezed her hand. “And I’m sorry for what I did after her banishment.”

“We deserved it,” Yves could only say. 

“You might have,” Haseul said. “But I let that go on for too long.” She smiled at both of them, fully. “I come back, and we’ll start doing what we did before. Be how we were before, at least with what we’ll have by then.” 

Jiwoo’s eyes were glassy. “Your path is still there,” she said. “You’re coming back.” 

Haseul nodded. “I’m leaving until after I’ve seen Dahyun. Until then, don’t tell anyone about my plan.” She winked. “You can do that afterwards.” Then she turned away, walking off back to camp. There was no falter in her step. 

Yves wished she could call after her. She wished she could go back to camp and tell the right people. If Jungeun wasn’t the type to go _with_ Haseul, she would've had a better chance at keeping her here. Hyunjin too, but she would've also gone with her. 

“She’s going,” Jiwoo said. It sounded like she was saying it to herself. 

“Did you know before she came here?” Yves asked. “Did you know where she was going?”

“I wasn’t looking.” Irritation flashed across her face. “Clearly none of us are. And I still can’t—” She cut off and turned away. She was leaning from one foot to the other. 

“Were you looking at Chaewon’s path instead?” 

“Hers,” Jiwoo started, “Hyunjin, Hyejoo, and Yerim’s too.” She shook her head. “As if that’ll help any of them.” 

“Chae didn’t mean that,” Yves told her. “What she said earlier.”

“She was right.” The look in her eyes was painful to look at. Yves could feel a flicker of that doubt. Probably because of the bond, even if the feeling was faint. “I haven’t asked her yet, but I think Yerim can tell the difference. I thought I could too, with the vampires and the other elves,” she scoffed, “but no.” 

“Jiwoo, wait—”

“I ruined everything,” she cut her off. “I let myself believe that the darkness meant she was dangerous. I put what I _saw_ over Hyejoo and even if it wasn’t all me, what if I’d have looked past it?” 

“It’s too late,” Yves said. “We can’t change what happened.” 

“Chae told me the same thing,” Jiwoo smiled, but it was shaky, “she said she didn’t blame me, but I know that was just for me.” 

“She doesn’t.” She put a hand on her shoulder, pulling her to face her. “The person she blames most is herself. Everyone else,” she shrugged, “we’re either making it worse or we’re just there.” 

They’d seen the worst tonight. Chaewon had been numb. Detached. She’d barely flinched looking at the body. Yves almost didn’t want to know how it’d been when the fairy was alive 

Jiwoo wiped away a tear that’d slipped through. Yves had barely noticed it falling. “I know,” she said. “I just wish,” she faltered, “I wish I could just do the right thing. For her—both of them.” 

The look in her eyes turned vulnerable, something Yves still had rarely seen from her. People often tried to take advantage of her because she was always kind and humorous. None of them knew how unwieldy her mask was until it fell. 

”All my life,” Jiwoo said slowly. “I’ve had to go through the paths of people, spirits, and raindrops. Everything I said and did, I had one big lie in mind.” She scowled then. An expression that didn’t fit her. “And I thought it was worth it, but it was all pointless. I didn’t see the right thing and we lost her. Then I kept lying,” the scowl fell away, “and we’re losing Chaewon too.” She shook her head. “The sight,” she muttered. "I didn't even see their magic changing. Everything else I used it for—I didn't help with anything.” 

“No.” Yves shook her head. “No, that’s not true.” 

It broke her a bit to see how Jiwoo didn’t believe it. 

“So yeah, you’re right. About all of it.” She took a step back.

Yves followed. Even if they were distant, something that she wasn’t used to with Jiwoo at all, what was being said was honest. She couldn’t let the distance grow again. They were finally being honest with one another. Even if what they were saying hurt, even if what they were _all_ stuck in was painful, they couldn’t change that. 

“Wait.”

Jiwoo stopped, but she looked confused. And irritated. Yves was torn between being surprised at the genuine display and hurt that it was directed at her. 

“You were helping us—me, that entire time.” She wanted to reach for her, to hold her and tell her how much she meant to her. She only felt she could do one of those things. “You were there for me after the attack, you helped me through the start when they told me I’d be leading, you gave me the confidence to keep going.” The list was endless. “You were there for both of us when Hyejoo was gone, you were the one who made us feel useful in any way. And that whole time, you kept us safe when you could, and alive when you needed to.” 

Multiple times, she'd thought over what Jiwoo had said about the future. How she'd hated being able to see it, but hadn’t shown that in all those years. It seemed an impossible feat, but Jiwoo had managed it. And Yves had never picked up on it, but she'd not sat on the side, letting the future play out. She'd tried to change it when she'd been able to. 

“I lied to both of you that entire time.” 

“I know,” Yves said. “And it’ll still take me some time to move past that, but I hate how things are now. I hate not being able to talk to you. I hate always having this shadow where you’re scared I’ll lash out at you, and I’m stuck thinking over these past years.” 

Jiwoo nodded. “You can ask me about those.” 

“I will,” she said. “But after all this is over.” 

The words struck something else in Jiwoo. She looked away immediately. Yves felt her heart constrict. There was fear, confusion too. 

“What is it?” 

Jiwoo was already starting to shake her head. 

“Don’t do that,” Yves said. “Tell me.” 

A few seconds passed. Yves knew the second Jiwoo made up her mind. 

“I don’t know when it’ll be over,” she whispered. “I’ve been trying to see it, but all I do see is darkness. It’s his, even though pieces of it aren’t.” She took a shaky breath. “Yerim’s dreamed of it, the others do see it. It’s one of the reasons they’re so on edge, but no one can make sense of it.” 

“But you said it yourself,” Yves slipped her hand into Jiwoo’s, “what you see— it isn’t sealed in time. The right events can change it, maybe even clear it up.” 

“But this’s too far-reaching,” Jiwoo retorted. “Inevitable.” 

“Did Eline say that?” 

“I know she believes it,” she replied. “And so do I.” 

“So what is it?” And why hadn’t the seers, or the elders for that matter, given them a warning? A proper one? If they were just going to stick with being paranoid, that wouldn’t bring them anything. 

Jiwoo looked at her for a long moment. “I don’t know.” Her voice broke. “I just know that there’s a darkness that closes in. Not on anyone, but it nears all of us.” The first tear fell. “And it’s cold. Anything I do see,” she blinked away more tears, “it scares me.” 

“If you don’t know what it is, then you don’t know if it’s unstoppable either.” Yves brought her other hand to her cheek. “We can still find a way out of it.” 

“And if we don’t?”

The words created a pang in her chest. Where was her hope? Even at the most terrible of times, Jiwoo had been able to put on a smile. 

“I can’t see what you see, so I don’t know how serious it is,” Yves said. “But we’ll try.”

Jiwoo opened her mouth, doubt evident in her eyes. 

She beat her to it. “That’s something we _can_ do.” She pulled her closer. “We’ll figure out what it is.” She wiped away the tears that had fallen. They clung to her chin and cheeks, as if they were afraid of falling away completely. 

“How can you be so sure that there’s a solution?” Jiwoo asked. 

Again, she was struck by how Jiwoo didn’t seem to _want_ to believe the same. Yves wasn’t sure what the way out was at all, but she needed to believe there was one. They all did. 

“Haseul’s got a plan,” she said. “We’re the last people I would’ve thought she’d tell, but she did.” The thought still confused her. “But if she trusts us enough for that, then we have to be ready to make sure she’s coming back.” She let her hands fall, wishing she could close the distance still between them, but she hadn’t closed that gap yet. 

And there was still a lot they needed to talk about. When it was all over, they'd need to talk about the bond. Yves was still confused and everything Jiwoo had said about it had stuck in her mind, but she didn't want to lose Jiwoo. The bond came second to that, regardless of what it meant, and what Jiwoo's rejection of it meant. 

It’d probably take a few years to seal the gap, to understand everything that'd happened, but they’d have that. Yves needed to make sure they all would. 

______

Jinsoul found her on the periphery. She made sure no one else was near. 

The other elf looked up then, before looking away soon after. 

“I don’t need your pity,” Chaewon muttered. 

Jinsoul shook her head. “That’s not why I’m here.” As she came closer, the light from her skin enveloped Chaewon. She hadn't let the light cover her own skin. 

She watched her. Jinsoul realised then how dull her eyes had become. They still had light, but they didn’t look like they had before. And something was sorely missing from her eyes. They’d been gently mocking before, always withholding a joke or a slight smile. 

“Then I don’t need you wondering about what’s happening with me.” Chaewon looked away. “You can see it. You heard it too.” 

“I’m worried about you,” Jinsoul said. 

She flinched. 

Jinsoul sat down beside her. “Hey,” she said, “I’m not here to try and help you, I don’t know how I would.” She tried to meet her eyes. “But I’ll at least be here for you.” 

Chaewon didn’t meet her eyes, but she took a deep breath. 

“You can tell me about it.” Jinsoul felt strange being here. It’d been half a century since she’d even talked to Chaewon like this. The times she’d had to heal her didn’t count, especially when Chaewon hadn’t said a word the entire time. 

“There’s not much to tell.” 

“What about the emptiness?” Jinsoul asked. “The cold that’s there. Does it hurt slightly, or more than that?” 

Chaewon lifted her head. There was a flicker of hope there. It was followed by dread. “How do you know about that?” 

“It’s less than what you have, but Jungeun has it too,” she replied. “And I got some of it when—“ The words caught in her throat. The only person she could talk to about it was the one she’d almost lost. Saying it to anyone else, she just couldn’t. 

Chaewon nodded. “Hers is from what she lost—from more than one encounter, I think.” Her hand went to her chest, where the light and darkness had met. “This’s from two things.” 

“The bond you lost,” Jinsoul said. “And the guilt?”

Chaewon smiled, but it lacked any real humour. “Everyone’s realising that, aren’t they?” She traced the space above her heart. “The start was from that. The rest came when the darkness shifted.” 

“Shifted?” Jinsoul repeated. 

“I’ve got two types of darkness,” she said. “I checked, compared it to the spirits, both kinds.” Her eyes fell again. “The others, they’ve got the kind that doesn’t hurt, but she—H-Hyejoo,” she shut her eyes, “has both too.” 

“And you still have some light,” Jinsoul said.

Chaewon laughed once. It reminded Jinsoul too much of how she’d looked in the forest. She’d seen someone else look like this before too. “That's the problem.” 

“Could one of the others help?” she asked. “Could they—“ 

“Take it out?” she finished. “I tried that.” 

Jinsoul waited. 

“And when I got rid of some of it,” she trailed off. “I realised it was actually just mine.” 

That settled in. Chaewon had destroyed pieces of herself. That was one of the reasons for the holes. 

“So it won’t even be brought up,” Chaewon continued. “Because it can’t be helped.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“I’ve lived with this for a while, Jinsoul. I’ve tried a lot of things and it never got less.” Her shoulders fell. “Either an eternity’s going to solve it, or it doesn’t. It doesn’t matter.”

Jinsoul shook her head. “You don’t mean that.” Carefully, she reached out. 

Chaewon didn’t flinch away when she took her hand. The skin wasn’t freezing, but it wasn’t warm either. 

“And what about the guilt?” Jinsoul asked. “Do you think that could ease with time?” 

Something gave way in her expression then. What lay underneath broke Jinsoul’s heart. She knew that look as well. “It shouldn’t ever get less,” Chaewon said. “Just like none of you have to forget what I did.” Tears were starting to form. 

Jinsoul pulled her into her arms. 

Chaewon was stiff, but she relaxed after a few seconds. She was still holding back her tears. 

“Forget is the wrong word,” Jinsoul told her. “Forgive isn’t the right one either.” She tightened her grip on her. “I can accept what happened, just like I know you regret it more than anything.” 

She didn’t reply. 

Jinsoul closed her eyes. She’d hadn’t realised how bad it was. She’d thought Chaewon had been in the same state as Sooyoung and Jiwoo, weighed down by guilt, but moving on with it. 

She still shouldn’t have been one of the people to shun them. She wished she could’ve reached out sooner. 

Even if it probably wouldn’t have made a difference. 

Chaewon slowly pulled away. She didn’t let go of Jinsoul’s hand. She held it carefully, as if she was scared of dropping it. 

“You know,” she muttered. “This’s nowhere near as bad as that, I’ve got it a lot better.” She grimaced. “But I think I understand Jungeun now. Why she never let those people’s minds get erased, or let an emotional fae force forgiveness.” 

Jinsoul waited. This was what she’d been afraid of Jungeun hearing. 

“I’d rather never be forgiven," Chaewon said. "I’d rather be hated for the rest of my life, then for someone’s mind to be taken up by lies.” 

Jinsoul wanted to tell her that she didn’t need to be, but she knew full well that those words wouldn’t work. She also knew that the hatred Chaewon talked about wasn’t just that of other people. 

She peered up at her. “That’s what Alluin was offering me. I think that’s why he sent that fairy in.” 

“He would’ve taken Hyejoo’s memories?” Jinsoul asked. She felt sick just thinking about it. It was the simple solution, but one that no one ever used. It was cruel to even try and the consequences were sometimes more than you’d thought. 

It also wasn’t fair. 

Chaewon nodded. Then she looked to the sky, avoiding Jinsoul’s gaze. “It’d be a lie to say I wouldn’t want things to be different.” Her eyes welled up. “It’s all I want,” she laughed weakly, “so I guess I was the one they thought’d be most likely to turn. They don’t have much of anything to offer the rest.” 

Jinsoul squeezed her hand. “But you didn’t accept it.” 

She shook her head. “Don’t act like it was something even slightly good,” she muttered. “It’s not hard to know how wrong that’d be.” 

“Weaker people would’ve accepted,” Jinsoul told her. “There’s a lot I’d do to keep some people in my life.” She paused. “And I’d kill for them too. A lot of people would think that was wrong.” 

“These’re memories,” Chaewon retorted. “Most of us would say changing those, or taking them away, would be worse than killing someone else.” 

Jinsoul didn’t reply to that. They’d end up going in circles. 

“Don’t tell anyone what they offered me,” Chaewon said. “Not because they’d think I’d turn. Jiwoo and Sooyoung'd pummel anyone who thought that.” A dry chuckle. “But,” she sighed. The rest didn't come. 

“No one else’ll know,” Jinsoul promised. Even if she didn’t entirely agree with it, she wouldn’t say it. “Do the other two know about the darkness?” 

“They knew something had changed,” she said. “They always knew that, but they didn’t know how bad.” She let out a shaky breath. “That’s why I’m out here.” 

Meaning she didn’t want to see how worried they were. Jinsoul had heard from Sooyoung how Chaewon tended to be when she was in pain. It’d probably been the worst she’d been in the past years. 

“It’s not fair to them,” Chaewon grimaced, “I know it isn’t.” 

“But it’s suffocating?” Jinsoul suggested. In the back of her mind, she wondered if she was starting to become that for Jungeun. Or if she'd already had been. 

She pushed the thought away. That was for later. 

Chaewon smiled. It wasn’t the empty one from before. Jinsoul was relieved to see it. “Still, they probably know the least at this point.” Her smile faded as quickly as it had come. “They don’t know what they can do. I told them they can’t do anything, but that,” she blinked and tears fell, “it doesn’t help.” 

Jinsoul remembered what Jiwoo had said to Jungeun. How powerless she’d felt. She’d feel that way now too. Both her and Sooyoung would. 

“They’ve tried everything,” Chaewon said quietly. “They’ve been there for me this whole time and I’ve just,” she winced, “sunken into myself again.” 

She tried to gather the words to say. It wasn’t that Chaewon was fragile. She was coping with more than most. 

“If I told you to talk to them,” Jinsoul started, “that probably sounds like the worst advice I could give.”

“I could think of worse,” Chaewon muttered, a familiar lilt in her voice. 

She smiled slightly. “But you should tell them what’s wrong. Even if they can’t fix it, knowing what’s happening, and being able to just know how much it’s hurting you.” She tried to catch her eye. “I think that’ll help all three of you.”

Chaewon stared at the ground. 

Jinsoul pulled her in for one more hug. “I’m here too,” she said. “That probably doesn’t mean much, but—“ 

“It means everything,” Chaewon said. Her arms wrapped around Jinsoul. “Thank you.” 

“You don’t have to thank me,” she told her. “I should I’ve been here earlier.” 

”You didn’t have to be, or even now,” Chaewon replied. “You don’t have to be there later either.” 

“I did." Jinsoul brushed a hand through her hair. "I do,” she said. “And I will.”

She tightened her grip when Chaewon finally let her tears fall freely. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a really hard chapter to get through. Part of it was what I was writing about. A second 'trial' of sorts was difficult on many levels, both for me and the characters themselves. The other points of discussion for the characters, as well as plot points coming into place. We're getting to a place I've been waiting for (I think I've felt that way for multiple plot points). 
> 
> However, the next update will probably take longer than this one did. I wanted to give you a longer one before I took a small break. I'll still be writing, definitely, but I've got exams coming up. Getting through the chapters, finishing writing, and then putting it all together on here takes a fair amount of time. It's early morning where I am and I'll need a semi-decent sleep schedule for the next month. Maybe I'll manage to put the next update up, as well as for the other ongoing story, but I doubt it unfortunately. 
> 
> Regardless, I hope this chapter has been interesting. Once again, this one was combining many different threads and pieces I've been waiting to write out. It brings up a few problems/points as well, which will be revisited in future chapters. 
> 
> Reading your thoughts on what's happening has been incredibly inspiring this entire time! Feel free to write out any predictions, thoughts, or even concerns and/or frustrations you might have with the characters. I've tried to make them realistic in that some of their decisions were either blatantly wrong, or flawed. Some are inconsistent and others may be reaching logical extremes, but I honestly love all twelve of them. 
> 
> Thank you so much for your support of this story so far! I say this a lot, but the fact that you're keeping up with it for as long as you have means so much to me. 
> 
> l hope you're all doing well! Hopefully I'll see you in the next chapter sooner rather than later. 


	39. You don't have to

Jungeun’s anger had faded the moment she’d turned around. Being at angry at Jinsoul almost never made sense. Not when she was usually right. 

Except this time, she still wasn’t sure if Jinsoul was right or if she’d misunderstood something. Or maybe she’d realised something Jungeun hadn’t yet. 

She sighed and kept walking. Every now and then, her legs still felt weak, as if her muscles had stopped wanting to hold her weight. 

She wondered how she’d run with them. She also wasn’t supposed to be walking for longer treks. How was she going to get back to patrol? 

And if there was another threat, how was she going to fight? She would’ve been able to today. She’d already felt the energy she always had before a fight. She’d been ready for it. 

Except there hadn’t been a fight. The four girls were safe and Jungeun was torn between exhaustion and the need to find a fight something else. Maybe that was why she’d been so defensive with Jinsoul. 

She felt a pang of guilt then. They’d talk tonight, not tomorrow. To leave off where they had, it wouldn't help either of them. 

Jungeun spotted a fire, pulled on a piece of it. It jumped straight into her hands. Once, it’d burned her. Now, it danced across her skin. 

She kept walking. 

Some people stopped to speak to her, telling her they were glad she was alright. They thanked her for everything she'd done, with genuine gratitude in their eyes. 

To say it was surprising was an understatement. It also pulled at her anger. These people had just voted over what would happen to Hyunjin, Hyejoo, and _Yerim_. They hadn’t once opened their mouths to defend her, or any of the rest. Not even Chaewon, not really. 

What had held her back was that some had changed. All of them had voted against Hyejoo the first time, but all of them had voted to save her and the other three this time. 

Jungeun forced herself to smile and thank them, not trusting herself to say anything other than that. She’d gotten good at that over the years. 

She wanted to get to a place where she was alone. All of this was getting overwhelming. 

The next people she saw brought tears to her eyes. She forced them down, keeping the smile on her face. 

“I’m sorry we haven’t seen you yet.” Short pause. “But I’m sorry,” Yuqi said. “I should’ve never even thought you’d turn on us.” 

Jungeun shook her head. “It’s good you did.” She chuckled. “Wouldn’t have worked if you’d been confused.” The hurt she’d felt in that moment was gone. Those feelings of betrayal had gotten them out of harm’s way. For the most part.

Shuhua suddenly pulled her into a hug. “I’m so happy you’re okay.” She leaned away to look at her. The side of her face was still scarred. It’d be smoothed over in a week, but Jungeun’s stomach still twisted at the sight of it. She’d done that to her. “And don't even think about feeling bad for this.” Shuhua tightened her grip. “You saved my life.”

“So did you,” she replied. Then she looked to Yuqi. “You too.” If Jinsoul hadn’t come when she had, if no healer had found her and it’d just been Shuhua, Jungeun would’ve died the first time. 

The reality of that didn’t scare her. As questionable as it might have been, she’d learned to be ready to risk her life. 

That same mentality wasn’t shared here. The Astra didn’t let anyone think they _had_ to risk their life. If someone had fought before, they’d be allowed to sit something out. 

Haseul was an exception. She was the one most had wanted to keep _out_ of danger, but she hadn’t listened. It was what she believed was right, but most of the time, neither she, nor Hyunjin for that matter, went into a fight accepting that they wouldn’t come out of it. Jungeun was so glad none of them went into anything with that mindset. 

She’d tried not to have it. She’d tried to force her thoughts to change, so that her instincts wouldn’t be circulating around the fighting. She managed it only when her head was clear.

“But why did you make us leave?” Yuqi asked. “We could’ve made sure it wouldn’t have gotten that bad.” 

“I didn’t want to risk three people,” Jungeun said. And neither of them had killed someone before. She knew they would in the future. The chances of never killing in their lives were slim, but Jungeun didn’t want to make those bigger. 

“But you took them on by yourself.” Shuhua frowned. 

“I’ve had a lot of experience.” Something she didn’t want to tell them about. “And practice, just like you’ll be doing once I’m feeling better.” She put a hand on both their shoulders. 

Yuqi hugged her next. 

Her throat tightened. It was all too much. 

“I’ll see you later,” she told them. 

They nodded, saying again how happy they were to see her walking again. Everyone seemed more relieved than they’d have normally been.

Was it because the seers had actually all _seen_ that she was dying? Maybe all the other times she’d thought she’d gone too far, she still hadn’t. She’d still had a good chance to survive. 

Or maybe she’d been close to that before, but no one had said anything. Jungeun would have to tell them to avoid spreading the news that she'd been so close to dying. It'd save her from this. 

“Jungeun?” 

She looked over to see Vivi. Her hair was orange now. 

“Hi.” 

“Hungry?” Vivi asked. “Jusr finished making it. There‘ll definitely be enough.” 

Jungeun nodded, stunned at the situation before her. 

When she’d come here, Jinsoul had been hugely reluctant to eat. Yerim had eaten with the two of them, but not with the rest for a few months.

And here Vivi was, making food for the others and inviting Jungeun to join her. She was also the person who’d made it possible for Hyejoo to even come back. Jungeun wouldn’t say it yet, but she owed Vivi her life. 

Jungeun sat down. She was handed a bowl of stone and light. 

“Is something wrong?” Vivi asked. “You look like you’ve just realised something.” 

“I’m just surprised,” she admitted. “You’re doing a lot of things sooner than we did.” 

She raised a brow. “Haseul told me you all managed to control the moonlight pretty fast.” 

“I didn’t mean that,” Jungeun said. “You’re joining in on meals, you’re involved with what’s happening in camp.” She smiled. “We weren’t that open to it.” 

“So I’ve heard,” Vivi started eating, “Jinsoul told me a bit about it.” She paused. “Did they really make you light fires?”

She nodded. 

Vivi‘s mouth twisted into a scowl. “How’d you move past that?” she asked. “I’d been treated better than that, but I still held grudges anyway.” 

That meant her people before the Astra. Immediately, Jungeun knew she’d have to let Vivi talk about that another time. It wouldn’t be something to ask her directly about. 

“It wasn’t all of them,” Jungeun explained. “And at one point, Sooyoung and Haseul just told me to stop and just refuse.” She cringed, thinking back to it. All she’d wanted was to not be hated. It didn’t matter if she got them to like her or not. “If they hadn’t, I would’ve probably kept doing it for a few years.” She finally took a bite of the stew. “Oh wow.” It was spicy, but rich too. “This’s amazing.” 

Vivi smiled slightly. “Thank you.” Then she looked thoughtful. “I didn’t think you were,” she grimaced, “this’ll sound offensive.”

Jungeun laughed. “I’ve heard worse. Say it.”

“Well, I didn’t think there was a time when you lacked a spine.” 

She snorted. “Believe me, that wasn’t the only time.” She moved the spoon around in the food, the sound of the stone scraping against moonlight was almost comforting. “Just because I can fight doesn’t mean I’m—well, it didn’t mean I’d fight back.” 

To her surprise, Vivi nodded. “But why still help them? You do a lot for the Astra, but you also have a backbone now.” There was a hint of teasing in her voice now. 

“They never tried that again,” Jungeun said. “Not with me, or any of the others who came.” She shrugged. “As for what else they did,” Hyejoo’s bloodied form came to mind, “I won’t forgive that.” 

“But?” 

She almost smiled at how Vivi could ease out answers from her. It was also a pleasant realisation that Jungeun trusted her enough to say what she was going to. 

“I don’t forgive myself for a lot of things,” Jungeun said. “And I live with it. I had to do that with some people before, and I have to do it here now.” 

“And the Astra,” Vivi began, “do you think you belong here?” 

Jungeun knew this train of thought. Both Jinsoul and Yerim had had it too. They’d wanted to know if Jungeun found a new home. If she’d started to feel like an Astran after all this time. 

“Most of the time I do,” Jungeun nodded, “but it’s complicated, even now. It’s like that for Jinsoul and Yerim too.” _Especially Yerim_ , she thought. Recent events hadn’t helped. Yerim hadn’t come to either of them yet, not much even before the darkness came. Jungeun would have to go talk to her. 

Vivi didn’t respond, instead looking at her bowl. Jungeun wasn’t sure if she’d said the wrong thing or not. 

Then again, Vivi seemed like the type to value honesty on top of everything, so she was probably just processing it. It could be a hard thing to stomach. 

“Have you tried?” Vivi asked then. “Forgiving yourself.”

Jungeun felt her stomach twist at the thought. 

“You can’t forgive what I’ve done,” Jungeun said. “But I won’t spend my entire life dwelling on it.” 

“So you forget?” 

Jungeun shook her head. “I can’t.” She chuckled. “I’ve had the chance to, but no.”

Vivi frowned. “Are you sure you want to remain in the middle?” 

She nodded, hoping they’d drop the subject. 

“But we live forever, in the best of cases,” Vivi continued. “You’re fine with living for all that time, regretting most of what you’ve done?” Her brow rose. “I’ve seen people justify a lot to themselves. It’s the only way they’re able to go on.” 

Jungeun didn’t know how to reply to that. She’d done it in the beginning. She’d felt a lot better too. 

“It’s probably different if it’s justifying most of your life, isn’t it?” Vivi asked. “Those people usually stopped doing what they hated.” 

“I only hated it sometimes,” Jungeun admitted. “A lot of the time I could tell myself I was helping my people.” She shrugged. “And when that didn’t work, I used to tell myself they deserved it. Everyone else around me believed that too.” 

“But?” Vivi repeated. 

“Well,” Jungeun laughed, “it became a problem when the people hunting me down were using that same logic.” She grabbed a piece of fire and moulded it into a ball in her hand. “Became an even bigger problem when I started thinking they were right.” 

“Do you still feel that way?” 

Jungeun gave her a look. “Trying to figure something out here?” She tapped her own head. “Because I’ve been through this a lot. You can just ask what you wanna know.” 

“Do you hate yourself?” 

She could only stare. Then she chuckled. “Wow.”

Vivi smiled slightly, but her eyes were slightly cautious. “You wanted a direct question.” 

Jungeun sat back, looking at her bowl. People had asked her that question before. She’d avoided longer discussions by just saying she didn’t. It’d been a lie a lot of the time. And then when she’d stopped feeling that way, something had ended up happening, dragging her back into her hatred. That made her volatile, but most people didn't know that. Most didn't need to know that either.

“I did. Many times,” Jungeun said. Then she sighed. “But I don’t right now, and if I’d never let myself get out of that,” she felt cold the moment the thought came to her, “I’m not sure I’d still be here.” 

Vivi was quiet then, looking at her with a surprisingly thoughtful expression. Other people who’d heard that had usually started to panic, or just immediately tried to dissuade her from doing anything drastic. It was almost always unnecessary. 

“And you‘re here,” Vivi said. Then she shook her head, slowly. “I can’t say I understand it fully, because I’ve never come that far. Ever.” 

Jungeun laughed. “Good.”

She smiled. “But I have been used.” 

Jungeun held her gaze. This was one of the times to not say much. 

“It’s not impossible for a half-fae to be born, but if they are,” Vivi trailed off, “then you’re only half of what they are.” She stared at the fire. “It took me a long time for them to even see me as anything more than a halfling,” she said quietly. “I fought their battles for them and I spent all the time I wasn’t fighting trying to further my magic, turning it to liquid, trying to control more materials, everything. Just so that the first thing they’d think of when they saw me _wasn’t_ my heritage.” 

“For how many did it work?” Jungeun asked. 

“Enough.” 

Then it was quiet. 

“And when the light came?” Jungeun tried to say it carefully, to leave enough room that Vivi knew she didn’t have to answer her. 

“The ones where it hadn’t worked turned on me completely,” Vivi said, meeting her eyes. They were both angry and sad. “I was finally the outsider they needed me to be, and an actual danger this time.” 

Jungeun thought of Yerim then. Her people had sent her away before anyone had been sent to get her. Yerim had been alone for days, chased down by spirits she hadn’t known how to fight. All because they’d thought she was too dangerous. 

“I knew it was dangerous,” she continued. “But a part of me wishes they would’ve taken the chance.” 

“So that you could’ve stayed,” Jungeun finished. 

Vivi laughed dryly. “In all those years, I never thought I’d be homesick. I’d wanted to leave my people before. I did at times, but I always came back.” 

Jungeun could only nod. 

She looked at her with the strangest gaze. Not as if she was a puzzle, but instead as if she was trying to uncover something else. 

Jungeun smiled slightly, putting down her bowl. “Want to know something else?” It was probably also Vivi’s way of dropping the subject. 

Vivi opened her mouth, but then hesitated. After a few seconds, she finally asked, "how thick’s your skin?” 

“Very." She chuckled. "Ask whatever you want.” 

“Why’d you never stop?” Vivi asked. “If you hated it, if you regretted it—“

“Why keep doing it?” Jungeun stretched out her legs. Vivi was being honest in her questions. If what Jungeun said now turned her away, then so be it. “I was trained to fight, taught to kill, and then sent wherever they wanted me to go.” She nodded at the sky. “It changed after that, but I still fought for the Astra.” She thought of what’d been said to her once. A few times actually. “I stayed someone’s weapon and I’ve been fine with it. I think I still am.” 

“As long as it’s you doing the killing,” Vivi finished. “You do that, because you’ve already killed so many.” Her brow furrowed slightly. “You’re used to it.” Understanding filled her eyes.

Jungeun was surprised to see it. She'd probably underestimated her. Then again, she didn't know much at all about Vivi. "Your people before,” she began, “did you have designated fighters?”

Vivi nodded. “I was one of them.” 

“Then what was your view of my people? Some of us were used to defend the Warsans, wipe out the threats, and fulfil any other contract sent our way.” 

“You were mercenaries,” Vivi said. “And occasionally warriors for your people and others.” 

Jungeun had to laugh. The others were warriors. They'd volunteered for those things.

“You know you’ve saved many lives as well,” Vivi began. 

“That doesn’t say much.” 

“I believe it does,” Vivi replied. “Death is brief. Life isn’t, sometimes it’s even endless.” 

“Loss isn’t brief. It can be endless too." The warm smile of her mother came to her mind immediately. That grief hadn’t lessened. She’d only grown numb to it. 

Realisation filled her eyes. “So that’s one of the reasons why,” she murmured. “Did you ever meet their families?” 

Jungeun couldn’t meet her gaze. She wished they could drop it. 

And then Vivi did something she didn’t expect. She dropped it. “Were you one of the people where you weren't immune to your own magic?" 

“Can't say I was,” Jungeun chuckled, “they got me to learn how to keep it from burning my skin before I turned five.” 

She nodded. “Stone made my body ache even if I didn’t touch it.” She sighed. “Apparently I was actually moving the stone with my body when I started."

“That makes no sense to me.”

Vivi laughed. “I won’t go into the solution then.” 

Jungeun smiled. “Please don’t.” She’d ask her another time, or tell Jinsoul to try. She was always been more interested in the workings of things than she had. Yerim was also like that too. 

They were quiet again. Vivi was looking at the fire, still with that inquisitive look in her eyes. 

Jungeun wondered how much more there was to her. She’d only said a small part tonight, but there were centuries that none of them knew about. Over the next years, they’d probably hear brief stories, or catch small references, but that’d be it. 

There’d be some things they’d probably never know of. Vivi didn’t owe them any of those and they’d only find out they existed after decades of trust had been built up. 

Jungeun found herself looking forward to those years. 

______

“Hey,” Haseul said softly. 

Chaewon looked up immediately. “Jinsoul was just here,” she said. “Were you looking for her?” She was looking away now, her eyes only an echo of what they’d been before. How had they not realised sooner? 

“I’m here for two reasons.” She sat down across from her. “The first is that I need your light. The second is to, well, just talk to you before I leave.” 

Chaewon frowned. “Leave?” Dread filled her eyes. 

“Not like that.” She shook her head. _Hopefully not._ “I have something I need to do. Yeojin and Vivi are coming with.” She leaned forward slightly and lowered her voice. “I’ve been trying to find out what I can about Alluin and his people.”

“And you’re going after them?” Her frown deepened. “You know what they’d—“

“Do if they catch me and capture me,” Haseul finished. “I have an idea.” 

Chaewon looked at her for a long moment. “And you need my light in case they take you. In case they have another mental fae.” 

Haseul nodded. “You don’t have to. What I did before—if asking you for this is—“

A massive piece of light appeared, illuminating the entire forest around them. 

“What happened doesn’t need to be forgiven,” Chaewon said. The colour in her eyes was so faded, but they were still gentle. “What I did, it deserved a lot more than that.”

“You were already suffering,” Haseul replied. “What I did, that was because I couldn’t do anything else. I didn’t go after her when I should’ve. Instead I tried to take out all my anger on the three of you, and it wasn’t all your fault either.” 

Chaewon was shaking her head. 

“I mean that,” Haseul said. “I’ve seen how much this hurts you, not even all of it.” She squeezed her shoulder. “I’m far from being someone where the apology’d matter,” she paused, “but I do forgive you.” 

The look in her eyes broke her heart. “I never apologised.” 

“Not out loud,” Haseul tried to give her a warm smile, “but I know you wanted to. You just didn’t know if you were even allowed to.” 

Chaewon looked surprised. Then the guilt made its way back. 

Haseul knew why. As much as the forgiveness of the others would mean to her, it didn’t take away the fact that Hyejoo was far from that. Chaewon had probably completely given up the hope for her forgiveness. Haseul wouldn’t say it, but she also didn’t think Hyejoo was anywhere close to that. 

She didn’t have to be, but even if she’d be right to never forgive her, Haseul she wasn’t sure if it was good for either of them. Still, it wasn’t her place to say anything. 

“Is it too late for me to go in your place?” Chaewon asked. “They’d actually let me into the camp. And my magic isn’t like his, or what ours should be.” 

“If your path went that way,” Haseul frowned, “they’d think you’d betrayed them.” She wanted to ask what Chaewon meant by ‘should be’, but held back. 

She looked away. “I know,” she said. “And that’s probably why it’s too late. After,” she trailed off. Then she shook her head. “I’ll give you some light for Yeojin and Vivi too.” Two more large pieces appeared. 

“Isn’t that too much?” 

“Maybe,” Chaewon said. “But nothing’s hurting.” She pressed them into her arms. “They don’t know, right? Hyunjin, Yerim, H-Hyejoo—they don’t know, do they?” Her eyes grew cautious. 

Haseul shook her head. 

“They shouldn’t. They’d follow and never be allowed back, even if they left to save you.” 

She wanted to object to that, but it was probably true. Even someone from Alluin’s people being sent to _them_ was taken as a reason not to trust the three. 

Except it was four people whose magic had changed. 

“That’s why you’re not going,” Haseul said. She'd seen Chaewon's mentality before, but a bit different. “You think they’d turn on the others if they already thought one of you was a traitor?” 

Chaewon winced. “A part of the reason they let us stay was their shame. Another part was because some realised how wrong it is.” She glanced at her hands. “But some of them were only convinced because I still have the light.” 

Haseul grimaced. “I know.” 

There was a longer silence then. Chaewon was fiddling with a rock, pinching it between her fingers every now and then. 

Haseul thought to the night they’d dragged them out of the camp, how they’d left them to be bait. 

“Can I ask you something?” Haseul asked. “You don’t have to tell me.” 

Chaewon’s smile was weak, but it was at least genuine. “I wasn’t ever angry at you,” she said. “You should really get that in your head.” She gently flicked the rock at her. 

She felt a knot in her chest unwind then. Chaewon hadn’t spoken to her like this in years. 

“When the spirits were coming,” Haseul started, “you were terrified. Was it the spirit?”

“No, it was—" She shook her head. "It was like when Hye—her magic had changed.” She’d picked up a small clump of dirt next, crumbling it in her hands. “I saw some of my memories, felt the things I had then, and then what had filled the spirits, each of them.” Her hand went to her chest. “I could always sense those things like I could the light, but I think after Hyejoo—” She closed her eyes. “When it happened, I think I changed too. Instead of controlling darkness, I could sense it even more.” 

“That happened when Hyejoo’s darkness came?” Haseul asked. “You felt,” she hesitated, “what you did then?” She hadn’t forgotten the scream that’d ripped from her. She hadn’t forgotten how Chaewon had looked afterwards either. How whatever she'd seen had haunted her.

“It was,” she broke off. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Would you tell her if she asked?” 

Chaewon looked up, a protest seeming to stop just before it hit her lips. Then her brow furrowed. The hand on her chest curled into a fist. 

She nodded. 

Haseul took her hand. The skin was cold. “When I come back, we’ll see what we do next.” 

“We?” Chaewon frowned. 

“I’ll be working to get my friends back.” 

Her eyes widened. She opened her mouth, but a tiny croak only came out. 

Haseul smiled. “Somehow, it’ll work.” She gave her hand a final squeeze before she started to pull away. 

“Wait,” Chaewon’s grip on her hand tightened slightly, “thank you. You didn’t have to say any of that, you didn’t have to ever say it, really.” 

“I did.” 

Chaewon shook her head. Then she let go of her. “Stay safe,” she said. “If you need help, I’ll be there.” 

It warmed her heart to hear it. Even if she hoped it would never come to that. She knew how people fought when guilt took up most of their minds. She also knew the people acted when they hated themselves. She knew someone else who’d fought with both those things in mind. 

No matter how capable they were, or how genuine they were in helping the people around them, there was still plenty of reason to worry. 

______

“Okay,” Hyejoo grabbed the spirit, “this’ll make it angry, but it can’t hurt you like it could before.” It was growling. 

“Both of us?” Hyunjin looked at it. It was a small bear, one that would’ve been endearing had it not stared at them with rage in its eyes. She could feel the anger and fear that’d made it. It tugged at her heart, urging her to feel the same. She could feel her mind starting to slip into memories she wanted to avoid. 

“Don’t think about the emotions too much,” Hyejoo told them. Yerim looked sick. She was also feeling what the spirit was. “And you’re not taking much. So both of you do it.” 

Like she had earlier, Yerim stepped forward first. Hyunjin was surprised at how quick she was to do it. She’d handled earlier a lot better than she had. 

Hyunjin focused on the darkness in the spirit. She felt the anger start to fill her, a lot more potent than what she’d been feeling. She pulled. 

The darkness came easily. It didn’t make her feel much colder than before. It didn’t hurt either. The anger made her blood boil and she cursed at the sudden surge of it. 

Then it was gone. 

“It just goes?” Yerim asked. Her right eye was black again. 

“In these amounts, yeah,” Hyejoo nodded, “we can tolerate it.” Then her arms were coated in darkness. The anger in the spirit’s eyes faded, but it didn’t change colour. It looked up at them, expectant, almost hopeful. “You just have to learn how to control it better, and to stop the aura of it from affecting you too much. It won’t be normal, and you’ll think you can take a lot, but you still have to be careful.” 

Hyunjin focused on the darkness she’d just taken. She drew it out of her and onto her palm. It felt cold against her skin. “Can we get rid of it or does it just come back to us?” 

She smiled then. “The effects fade for us naturally, but you can force it into something else. I always use a shadow.” She brought one over. “But people’ll feel that something’s wrong for a while.” 

“How?” Hyunjin looked at it. She could feel the anger Hyejoo had placed there, but subdued. 

“Force it to merge with it,” Hyejoo said. “I can’t really explain how it happens.” 

It took two tries, but when it worked, the cold left her hand. She could still feel it if she held her hand over the shadow. 

Hyejoo brought another spirit. They did it again, but she had the two of them turn the spirit fully. That involved giving it some of their own darkness. It felt weird doing that. Hyunjin hadn’t realised how much she held. It was as if all the light she’d had before had been replaced, along with more in spaces she hadn’t realised were empty. The shadows around them were another source. She only had to touch them to regain what she’d lost. 

It wasn’t that she felt stronger, but there was a vastness to the magic. It hadn’t been one she’d ever felt with the light. 

“Is this how the earth is?” Hyunjin asked. 

Yerim was creating a flower from the shadows, lacing the petals together in dark smoke. “Endless?” Even then, she still had a brightness to her. Her purple eye still sparkled, which Hyunjin still didn’t understand. Were her own eyes like that? 

She just nodded, looking at the shadows. 

Hyejoo was watching the spirits they’d turned, throwing them tiny pieces of darkness. They ate them all, as though they were treats. 

“Yeah,” Yerim’s flower melted back into her hands, “but with the earth, I always knew there was a limit.” She set her palms on the ground. It trembled slightly. “Me.” She ran her fingers along the earth, both shadows and moss curling around them. “But with the darkness, I don’t feel that. I can’t tell where my limit is.” 

“You'll find it,” Hyejoo said. “And then you push it.” 

“What happens then?” Hyunjin asked. “Is it a headache? 

She shook her head. “It’s too much of this.” She waved at the darkness. “It’s feeling even colder." Her hand fell. "When it started, I could barely feel the warmth of a fire, not until I held my hands right over the fire.” She sighed. “I know this doesn’t sound good, but—”

Hyunjin cut in. “We need to know.”

Hyejoo nodded once. “I got nightmares in the first year. A lot. More vivid than I’d ever had them.” 

“Did anything help?” 

“Alluin offered me this.” She made a veil of darkness. Hyunjin felt a slight weight settle in her stomach just looking at it. It was heavy, but not overwhelming. “I only took it after that year.”

Hyunjin took it. It made that heaviness more pronounced. She recognised the feeling. She passed it to Yerim who gasped. 

“It’s like Darie,” she said. 

“Really?” Hyejoo frowned. “How?” 

“She gave me sadness after the bright spirit,” Yerim explained. “It helped the burn. Even if I had any visions when I slept, they weren’t that bad.” She held it over to her. 

“Keep it,” Hyejoo said, making another. “Both of you should have this for the day. Just in case.”

Hyunjin held the silk-like darkness. It didn’t immediately seep into her skin. 

“Thank you,” Hyunjin said. Yerim nodded, a sweet smile appearing. 

Hyejoo’s mind was already elsewhere. Hyunjin could practically feel the question forming. 

“Did you see?” Hyejoo asked. She looked both sad and annoyed. “Did you know something was happening to her?” 

Yerim looked Hyunjin’s way then. She looked torn. 

“I wasn’t looking,” Hyunjin admitted. “I didn’t care.” She’d stopped after that night. She’d at least told herself she had. 

Hyejoo winced. “I didn’t either,” she said. “I didn’t think they would’ve either.” 

Hyunjin thought of how quiet the three had been after that. Jiwoo might’ve been one of the loudest people she’d known, matched only by Sooyoung when she was in the mood. Chaewon’s light and airy laugh had usually accompanied that, along with several remarks that usually had no bite. 

And then it’d all stopped. 

“But they did,” Yerim said. Then she was shaking her head. “I’m not telling you that so you feel bad, I’m—”

“You’re telling me so I know,” Hyejoo finished. 

_That they cared_. _They still care_. 

A nod. “Jiwoo didn’t know what to do when it started. Sooyoung didn’t either, and Chaewon wasn’t giving them a chance to help. She didn’t tell them much and they found out about the darkness when the rest of us did.” 

Hyejoo just looked at her. Her expression wasn’t stony, but it didn’t give much away either. 

Hyunjin felt guilty for not having cared enough. She needed to now. 

______

Olivia almost didn’t want to believe it. When everything had still been good, Gowon had told them everything, so had Olivia. Yves had as well. They’d always known that Chuu hadn’t said everything, but she’d said enough. 

Except for the part about the future. 

“They should’ve seen it coming,” Olivia said. “Ji—Chuu should’ve seen it.” 

“I should’ve too,” Yerim shot back. 

Olivia closed her mouth. “Sorry.” 

She shook her head. “No one did. We had all the signs, and we didn’t see it. Now we know. Now Hyunjin and I have changed too. That’s it.”

“That’s it?” she repeated. “You lost your magic. They almost turned on us.” 

“But they didn’t,” Hyunjin said. “We got something else instead.” She levelled an almost stern gaze her way. “And I don’t think it’s sunk in yet that you being here is the best thing that’s happened in the last fifty years.”

Olivia felt a flicker of warmth then. She couldn’t hold either of their gazes. 

“We can’t change what happened,” Yerim said. “But only what came later.” A short pause. Then she took a deep breath. “I didn’t think you’d ever come back. I never saw our paths crossing again, until things started shifting.” 

Olivia looked up then. “How?”

“Some of the things you did,” she replied. “I didn’t know what they were, but things shifted, especially this year. Then Chae—" She faltered, before glancing at Hyunjin, then the ground, and back at Olivia. “Something was changing on her side too, even more when the paths started to reform. In some of them, I saw her path fading away. In others, I was seeing it get brighter.” 

“And what is it now?” 

Yerim’s eyes glazed over. After a few seconds, she frowned. 

“What?” Hyunjin leaned forward. “Something wrong?” 

“Haseul was just with Chaewon,” Yerim replied. “And now her path’s going away from camp.” 

“Chaewon’s?” Hyunjin frowned. 

“Not now,” she said. “But later.” Then her frown deepened. “Haseul’s is going that same way a lot sooner. Yeojin and Vivi are with her.” 

“So it’s a patrol?” Olivia asked. 

“Probably,” Yerim muttered. “But I can’t see much else. There’s nothing bad,” she bit her lip, “but I don’t see where Haseul's path is going after that. The other two come back.” 

“And then Chaewon goes after her?” Hyunjin looked in the direction Yerim was looking. “Anyone else with her?” 

“Not yet,” Yerim replied. “But that could change.” She shrugged. “I just saw this. Haseul’s path was staying here, at least it looked like that until now.” 

Olivia couldn’t help but feel uneasy. Why were they going? Why now? With how everything was, this was exactly the time Haseul would try to stay and keep things held together. She’d always done it like that. Even when she’d needed to go away for a bit, she’d practically demanded regular bits of information to know how things were. When they’d needed her, she’d come back. 

Olivia would be lying if she didn’t want Haseul here, both for the three of them and to help her get accustomed to life among the Astra again. Haseul had done that for Jungeun, Jinsoul (with the help of Jungeun), and Yerim to an extent. She’d done it again for Vivi. Was it selfish that Olivia wanted Haseul to help her as well? 

Then Yerim shook her head. “There’s nothing to worry about yet,” she said. “Sometimes these things change back to how they were before. I just have to keep an eye on it.” She put on a smile then. It looked real, but Olivia could feel the worry that still clung to her. 

She felt Hyunjin looking her way. She looked both curious, but also reluctant. 

“What is it?” Olivia asked. 

She shook her head. 

“Ask me.”

Hyunjin grimaced. “How were things in the beginning? Before and after Alluin found you?”

“Lonely,” Olivia admitted. “And I was getting used to the magic.” She’d felt powerful, but it’d been too much. She’d been able to control so much, sense almost too much. “It didn’t get better or worse with Alluin.”

“Just less lonely?” Yerim was hugging her knees, eyes going between being glazed over and focusing on Olivia. 

She nodded. “Except I didn’t exactly have the best company out there.” She closed her eyes. “There’s probably only one person there I liked, and she barely spent time in camp either.”

“And the things they sent you out for,” Hyunjin started, “was it all work for the mortals?”

“Most of it,” Olivia nodded, “a lot of the humans wanted some advantage over the rest.” Then a pit started to form in her stomach. “What were you hearing? About me?”

“That you were stealing,” she replied. “And some other things, but most were always just dismissed as little stories starting, ghost stories.” Her eyes were almost unreadable. “And a few things I think were just because the superstition was getting out of control.” 

“Not all of them,” Olivia said. The pit was growing. “Hyun,” she clenched her jaw, “just ask me about it.” 

Hyunjin’s jaw also tightened. She didn’t want to ask her, but she’d still brought it up. Was it because she wanted to believe it hadn’t happened? 

Olivia felt even guiltier then. 

“What happened with those humans?” Yerim asked. She looked apologetic. Like Hyunjin, she hadn’t wanted to ask the question, but they both needed to know the answer. 

Olivia felt the need to look away. Thinking about that day was hard. She’d pushed it to the back of her memory most of the time. 

“You don’t—“ Hyunjin began. 

Olivia raised a hand, cutting her off. She’d tell them the truth. They deserved that. “I didn’t lose control.” She drew on the shadows. “At least not at first.” She let them fall back into the air. “They followed me, they could feel my magic. It terrified them.” 

“They tried to kill you?” Yerim asked. 

“I think they wanted to,” Olivia said. “But I don’t think they would’ve. Not if they’d realised.” She hadn’t given them the chance to see what they were following. They hadn’t been able to run.

Neither of the two said anything. 

To kill a mortal, it was more than frowned upon, it was cruel. To end a life so much shorter than theirs, to hurt those who couldn’t heal as they could. 

“You felt the murder of the darkness around them, didn’t you?” Hyunjin asked. “Then with the fear they also felt, it was overwhelming.”

Olivia frowned. “When did you ever feel that?” Had Hyunjin had an advanced sense before as well?

“I felt it when I took in the darkness,” she replied. “Not just the last time I did it, but the first times too.”

Yerim looked over. “When you were away?”

So Hyunjin had done that before? Rid a house of darkness. And she'd recovered beforehand fine?

Olivia's throat tightened. There'd been signs, even before Olivia had even gotten the darkness. 

“Was it that fear?” Hyunjin met her eyes. 

“I wanted to hurt someone,” Olivia said. “What those soldiers felt—they saw me as a monster.” She looked away from both of them. 

And she’d given them that. 

“And you were scared,” Hyunjin said. “Scared something would happen again. And you weren’t powerless that time.” 

Olivia couldn’t help but wince. 

“Sorry,” she said quickly. 

Olivia shook her head. “If I can’t hear that, then I shouldn’t be here.” How would she ever face someone like Jungeun if she couldn’t face what she’d done? 

“When you said you hadn’t lost control at first,” Yerim pursed her lips, “what’d you mean?” 

Olivia saw the way their eyes had filled with shadows. She remembered how their terror had surged.

“I couldn’t stop,” she said. “My magic had gone to them, and I hadn’t been able to pull it back.” Then she realised how that sounded, probably to both of them. “I never had magic before,” she added, “I didn’t know how to keep control of anything like that.” 

Hyunjin still looked worried. Yerim didn’t, for some reason. 

“It’ll be okay, Hyun,” Olivia reached over and lightly pinched her shoulder, “you managed tonight without the magic surging the way it would’ve with me. You’ve got a control I didn’t have.”

“I wish we could’ve been there with you,” Hyunjin said. “I wish our magic had changed sooner.” 

Olivia stared at her. That hadn’t been one of those things someone said just to comfort you. Hyunjin had actually meant it. 

“You’re here now,” she said, her voice thick. “And that’s enough.” 

Hyunjin finally smiled then. Her eyes grew a bit brighter too. 

Olivia looked to see if she found any light. It was there, but only in flickers. Yerim had the same thing. 

She didn’t stop to wonder why that was. 

The other two didn’t let her either, because they both tackled her in a hug. 

______

She was already sitting by the fire. The fire reflected in her eyes, turning them from blue into something almost like orange. She looked exhausted. 

Jungeun went over, still wondering what she was going to say. Was she even going to say anything? Talking to Chaewon might’ve been completely draining. Seeing someone like that, it could take a lot of you. Jinsoul could handle it, but she also had her limits. 

Then Jinsoul looked up. She stood immediately. 

The words Jungeun wanted to say left her. 

“Hey,” she said, “I’m sorry about earlier.” She came over. “I shouldn’t have—“

“Soul,” Jungeun lifted her hands, taking her arms, “it’s okay.” 

Jinsoul was already shaking her head. “I was wrong.”

She shook her head. She slid her hands down to take hers. “You were right.”

Jinsoul was thinking of a response, her brow furrowed. 

Jungeun squeezed her hands. “Have you eaten yet?” 

The fold in her brow hadn’t faded, but she shook her head.

“Come on.” Jungeun pulled her down to sit at the fire. "I'm still hungry."

She wasn’t ready to talk about the rest of that yet. And even with the dish she’d gotten from Vivi, she was still hungry. Maybe it was because the weakness was finally starting to fade. 

Jinsoul let go of her hands, before going to the pot over the fire. Two bowls of moonlight appeared in the air, before she started putting food in.

“Did you cook?” She found herself leaning forward. 

Jinsoul chuckled. “Don’t worry, it’s spicy.” 

Jungeun smiled. She got up and hugged her, careful not to collide with her hands. She rested her head on Jinsoul’s shoulder. “How was it with you?” 

Jinsoul was quiet for a few seconds, looking her way. She searched her eyes. 

Jungeun felt the ache return. She fought the urge to look away. 

Something flickered in her eyes. “I’m scared for her.” A pause. The strength in her eyes faded. “She’s broken, Jungeun. The wrong things keep happening to her and it,” her voice shook slightly, “she’s losing herself more and more.” 

Jungeun gently leaned her head against hers. 

Jinsoul relaxed a bit. “I just don’t see how we can fix this,” she said. “Even if Alluin isn’t a threat anymore, Chaewon still won’t be whole. She’ll still be in pain.” 

“Is it just her guilt?” Jungeun asked. She moved them back to a sit down. “Or her magic?” 

“Both.” Jinsoul lifted one of the bowl. “Eat.” 

Jungeun took it and started eating. It was awkward avoiding Jinsoul’s head, but she didn’t seem to mind it. She leaned her head on her chest, eating slowly from her own bowl.

“We don’t know how the three got their magic,” Jungeun said. “But we know how Yerim and Hyunjin lost it.” 

“They just lost their magic,” Jinsoul replied. “They didn’t lose themselves.” She was looking into the fire. “She tried to get rid of the darkness. The kind that was hurting Hyunjin, the one that almost took you.” Her grip on the spoon tightened. “But it’s a part of her now.” 

“Can she live with it?” she asked. “Not like before, but do you think there’s a chance we can make it bearable?” Because that's all you could sometimes do. Once it was bearable, then you could start working to another solution. 

“How?” An edge of hopelessness was coming into her voice. 

Jungeun wished it wasn’t there. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “But we know about five people whose magic changed. Three of them had the light as their magic, two didn’t.” She finished the bowl and set it down. She wrapped her arms around Jinsoul properly, careful not to collide with her hands. “Two of the three lost control over the light, but it’s not completely gone.” She’d seen it in both Hyunjin and Yerim. “It hasn’t been long, but I don’t think it’s hurting them to have both.” 

“You think there’s a chance Chaewon could be like them.” 

“We have to hope there’s one,” Jungeun said. “Otherwise I don’t know what else we’d do. Not yet at least.” 

Jinsoul nodded. She’d closed her eyes, the bowl having been put back to the ground. 

A silence came over them. There was the talk around the camp and she knew people were looking over at both of them. Jungeun ignored all of it. She didn’t want to hear them talking about earlier tonight. She didn’t want to know what the people thought who’d voted against the four. She still couldn’t believe there’d been that many who’d voted for them leaving. 

What she wanted was to try and pull Jinsoul from the place her mind was. 

“About earlier,” Jungeun began, “you know my limits. Maybe not all of them, but some.” She focused on her arms that were still wrapped lightly around Jinsoul. “But I’ve been a patient for a few weeks too long and people’re suddenly telling me they were worried about me.” 

Jinsoul opened her mouth, probably to tell her exactly what that was. 

“They tell me how happy they are I’m alive. Others are thanking me for what I’ve done here.” She thought of how even Nuala had been so much more attentive, going as far as mentioning that she owed her a lot for keeping some injuries from getting even worse.

“They’ve thanked you before.” 

“Not like this,” Jungeun said. “Not this many.” 

“You don’t like it?” 

“I don’t get it, it’s—“ She nearly cursed. Was it foolish to get angry at this? Was she wrong to not want them to say what they were saying? 

Jinsoul was looking at her with that imploring gaze. “They realised how much they need you here. How much you’ve actually done for them.” She lifted her free hand when Jungeun started to speak. “And before you say anything, you can’t tell me you haven’t been one of the reasons a lot of them are alive.” 

Jungeun needed to look away then. “I don’t want their thanks,” she admitted. “I don’t need them showing me what they’ve realised, not when they’re still going to _vote_ whether or not to keep people here.” 

“I know,” Jinsoul said. “But it’s all coming from a good place and I think it’s good that you’re hearing it.” 

She fought the urge to counter that. Once again, the words for that protest failed to match what Jinsoul would respond with. 

“Did they never thank you?” Jinsoul’s voice sounded cautious. She was leaving the question open. Jungeun didn’t have to answer it. 

But she would. “I got to take time away,” Jungeun said. No one had thanked her for what she did. They’d celebrated their victories, her actions, but never thanked her, unless it was purely for taking the job, or bringing the reward back. She’d been grateful for that. 

Something deflated in Jinsoul then. 

Jungeun wrapped her arms around her a bit tighter. “What is it?”

Jinsoul’s lip was starting to quiver. She wasn’t teary, but she was close to it. 

“You’re going away again,” she said after a long moment. “After all this is over?” 

Jungeun nearly said she was, but as she opened her mouth, she saw how Jinsoul was trying to get herself back together. She was trying to keep herself from showing that she wanted Jungeun to stay. 

Jinsoul would let her go. She always had. 

Going away was easy. She could be completely alone, focusing only on getting from one place to another. She’d done it all her life. When she’d gotten to the Astra, she’d still done it. 

When Jinsoul had come, and later Yerim, she’d still needed to go away at times. Something had changed then. She’d started sending them letters. At first, it’d only been because Yerim had asked her to, but then it’d become something she’d done just so Yerim and Jinsoul would know she was alright. She hadn’t ever needed to do that before. 

And now the two of them were even more worried. For her. 

“Not for a while,” Jungeun replied. She lifted a hand to Jinsoul’s cheek. “Not this time.” 

She felt how she relaxed into the touch, relief washing over her features. 

It convinced Jungeun that staying would be the right decision. She’d have to go on longer patrols, some of them alone, or with Hyunjin, but they’d have to do. 

“We still have to go somewhere together again,” Jinsoul had a small, content smile on, “you, Yerim, me.” 

“Then we’ll do that,” Jungeun smiled, “I still have a lot of places to show you.” 

Blue eyes met hers then. They were sparkling more now. “I’d love that.” 

The ache got stronger. Jungeun knew she couldn’t look away, even if she wanted to. She was the only one feeling this, and Jinsoul catching on to that would only make her worry.

But there was something else looming over them, something Jungeun couldn’t place, but it scared her. It reminded her of the bridges the Warsa had scattered across the mountains, ones that shook with every breath and swayed with each step. They always threatened her with a fall that even an immortal probably wouldn’t survive. 

“But you can still go whenever you want. Don’t start staying just because we’d,” Jinsoul trailed off, “you know.” 

“You’d worry.” 

“Who said you’d be out too far?” Jinsoul winked, but it lacked the usual teasing. “I’d organise a very low-key guard duty for you.” 

Jungeun laughed. “Better than being tied to a tree.” 

Jinsoul rested her hand over Jungeun’s. “If you start straining yourself, Yerim’ll help me.” Then she leaned her head on Jungeun’s shoulder again. 

“You do know I’ve never had any healers as strict as you, right?” 

“Yes,” she huffed, “and have you noticed you’ve recovered faster?” 

”I did notice,” Jungeun said, “but I know it was because you‘re the better healer.” 

Jinsoul whined. “That’s just because you never gave those healers a chance.” She poked her side. Then her expression went serious again. “But about earlier,” she said, “I’m sorry.” 

“I get it,” Jungeun shook her head, “I would’ve seen something too much like me, right?”

And maybe Jinsoul was right. She didn’t know the pain that Chaewon was feeling, but she had a small idea. It wasn’t hard to see how much the girl was hurting. Jungeun had just decided to ignore it before. 

Jinsoul shook her head. “I didn’t mean that “ 

“You did,” Jungeun replied. “And you were right.” 

“No I wasn’t,” Jinsoul said softly. “I just didn’t want you to get hurt.” 

Jungeun nodded. “And how's that wrong?”

She frowned. “I was acting like you couldn’t handle it.” 

“We don’t know if I would’ve handled it or not, and now we’re here.” Jungeun tilted her head to the fire, making a small column rise into a neat circle around the pot. 

“You keep doing that with me,” Jinsoul muttered, watching the fire." 

“Doing what?” 

“Forgiving me when I’ve barely apologised.” 

“Because you don’t have to apologise to me,” Jungeun told her. “Not about that.” 

Jinsoul looked back up at her. There was an intensity in her eyes, joining the confusion and non-verbal protest. It was almost completely too much. “I still will.” She was also talking about those other things. 

“I know.” Jungeun wanted to look away. She forced herself not to.

Jinsoul didn’t say anything. She was just looking at her. It was a look Jungeun knew well. She knew what it was. 

But she didn’t want to name it. Just trying to understand it doubled the ache in her chest. It overtook her thoughts. 

“You know,” Jinsoul’s voice took her away from said thoughts, “you can tell me if it’s ever too much. If you need time alone, for me to stop worrying, just tell me.” 

It was almost funny how Jinsoul could pick up on what went on in her head. 

“I can’t tell you to stop worrying,” Jungeun replied. “You’d never manage a day.” 

Jinsoul softly shoved her. Jungeun’s hand fell away from her face. The ache faded ever so slightly. 

It returned just as strong when Jinsoul pulled her into a tight embrace. 

“Maybe I’d still worry,” she whispered. “But I wouldn’t tell you.” 

“Soul,” Jungeun fought a laugh, “that’s not my point.” Words from before came to mind again. They hurt to remember. 

_I_ needed _you to be okay._

Jungeun had lashed out after that. She'd acted that way a few times now. 

“I know,” Jinsoul said. She pulled away to look at her. Her eyes were teary now. “Sorry.” She wiped at her eyes, turning away from her. 

“It’s okay.” 

“It isn’t.” Jinsoul shook her head. The tears were flowing more now. “This shouldn’t still be happening.” She pressed her palms to her eyes. 

Was ‘this’ the worrying? Or the crying? 

Then Jungeun realised that it was neither. This was still from when the darkness had surged the second time. When Jungeun had been close to dying a second time. 

Jungeun reached for her hands, pulling them away from her face. “It hasn’t been that long since it happened.” She mightve come back from it alright, but it’d been worse for the people around her. Jinsoul was one of them.

 _I’ll never regret it. Not if you’re still standing in front of me._

From what Jungeun could tell, Jinsoul was feeling better since then. The holes she’d had, they’d started to close. They weren’t draining her as much as before. 

“Talk to me,” Jungeun said. She used her sleeve to wipe the tears away. 

At the same time, some of the droplets were falling away from her eyes directly. 

Jinsoul pulled away then, her head facing away from her. “Can we go inside?” 

Jungeun stood up, pulling her with her. Jinsoul’s head hung down. More tears kept falling away to the ground. 

There weren’t many people around them, but others would probably end up passing by. Jinsoul hated people seeing her this way. 

Together, they went to the tent. Neither Yerim nor Hyunjin were there. 

Jungeun sat down, taking Jinsoul with her. She pulled her into her arms again. 

“I’m scared,” Jinsoul said quietly. “I keep seeing you like you were before. I keep seeing the moment I thought I lost you.” Pain filled her eyes. “And I know that’s not fair, because you’re right here, but I can’t—” She broke off. 

She took Jinsoul’s face in her hands again. She pressed a long kiss to the side of her forehead.

Jinsoul kept talking, switching between _arcesh_ and _crosesh_ , as though one language had a better fitting word than the other did. 

“I want to protect you,” Jinsoul said. “I know you don’t need me to, and you definitely don’t want me to.” She sighed. “I shouldn’t have tried to keep you from seeing her, but I couldn’t help but think it’d hurt you again.” Then she was shaking her head, leaning away. “It’s not the same, I know that, but it felt like it was going to be.” 

It was hard to listen to her. Jungeun didn’t want to hear it, but a part of her felt she needed to. Jinsoul had been bottling the last few months up again and maybe Jungeun had been too. Sometimes they did it for the right reasons, other times the opposite. 

“If I’d have seen you after that, to see you come back from hearing what I had, _seeing_ what I had,” Jinsoul’s breathing was shaky, “I would’ve blamed myself for it. It probably would’ve been the wrong thing, but I would’ve.” She gripped the fabric of Jungeun’s clothes. It was probably to stop her hands from shaking. “And I’m sorry, Jungeun.” She closed her eyes. 

Jungeun nearly told her to stop apologising, but it would’ve definitely been the wrong thing to say. “For what?” 

Jinsoul’s voice was muffled. “Because I can’t do it,” she muttered. “I can’t just say I’m glad you’re okay and then let you go somewhere else. I can’t stop being terrified that the second you’re alone, someone will come. I can’t look at you and not think about how you were _so_ close to being gone.” A sob left her then. “And I know none of that is fair to you. I know you don't want me to feel that way." 

Each tremor in her voice hurt to hear. Each sob she tried to hold back was painful.

Jungeun’s own eyes were burning. She’d known that the last weeks had been hard. She’d seen how they’d affected Jinsoul, but she’d only seen a part of it. Jinsoul had hid so much of it.

“You don’t have to be able to handle this,” Jungeun told her. “And you're doing better than I ever could’ve.” She didn’t even want to imagine how she’d have been if things had been reversed. "So don't be sorry for that. Don’t bottle it up, please.” She forced her own tears back. “I didn’t know how—” How what? How scared Jinsoul had been? How scared she was now? 

“I didn’t want you to,” Jinsoul mumbled. “You don’t want people to worry.” She pulled away. Her eyes were swollen. “You tried to avoid this at home, then you wanted to avoid it here.” She let out a short laugh. “And here I am, doing all that, and more.” She held a hand to her face, rubbing her eye. 

“It’s not that bad,” she said. “I’ve seen worse.” 

“But I’m too much,” Jinsoul retorted. Her voice was steadier now. “You don’t like how the others have started to show you they care and—and I know it scared you when you realised how how much you mean to me.”

“And that isn’t fair of me.” Jungeun looked down at her hands. “Not to them, and not to you.” 

Jinsoul’s hands reached for her own. “This isn’t anything to blame yourself over.”

“Then those other things aren’t bad either,” she said. “I had it easy. The darkness came, but then I was better. I wasn’t the one fighting. You were.” 

Jinsoul had pursed her lips. Jungeun didn’t know if she was listening, or trying to find something else to say. 

“I don’t worry anymore,” Jungeun said. “And I know you don’t agree with that, and you’re right, because I should be.” She laughed slightly. “It’s _normal_ to worry, it’s normal to be afraid something’ll happen again, because something actually happened to me.” She shook her head, another laugh coming. 

Jinsoul frowned slightly, brow curving upwards in the middle. 

Jungeun smiled. “I’m able to move on from what happened, because I’m used to it. That doesn’t mean you should have to and it definitely doesn’t mean you should be hiding the fact that you can't forget what happened.” She squeezed her hands. “People call me a freak of nature for a reason.” 

Jinsoul laughed, shaking her head as she did. 

“You’re not too much,” Jungeun said. “I’m just not used to this. Any of it.”

“It?” Jinsoul repeated. One eyebrow rose. 

A part of Jungeun wondered if Jinsoul knew what she meant and she was just asking to hear it said aloud. 

Then again, there were a lot of things that they’d left unspoken, but one of them knew what it was. If it wasn’t said aloud, it could be ignored. 

“You’ve had every reason to hate me, but you don’t,” Jungeun said. “You weren’t my family, you didn’t grow up with me, see what I was like before or anything like that.” She lifted Jinsoul’s arms, putting them on her shoulders. “Instead you’re this.” She grimaced at her own word choice. “You’re more than family to me. You mean just as much to me and I’d be lying if that didn’t scare me.” 

A few seconds passed. Jinsoul was trying to say something, but it wasn’t coming. 

“I’m scared too,” Jinsoul said. “And when it happened,” she hesitated, “ _both_ times. A–a part of me was breaking and it scares me how much that hurt.” She grit her teeth, looking away. 

Jungeun’s heart twisted seeing it. She could distinctly feel Jinsoul’s confusion. There was a reason she could feel that. 

She didn’t want to think about it. 

“It scares me how much you matter to me.” 

Jungeun didn’t say anything. What could she say? She probably didn’t need to. 

Jinsoul looked away. “I don’t know what to do,” she said. “You’re here, you’re better, but I know it’s getting too much again.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to be the reason for that, but if I am, tell me.” The exhaustion was back. “If I’m overbearing, if I’m,” she trailed off. Her eyes dimmed slightly, her shoulders drooping. 

“You’re not,” Jungeun carefully pulled her to the bedroll, “you’re never too much.” She gently pushed her back. “Sleep. We’ll talk more tomorrow.” 

“You didn’t even want to tonight.” Jinsoul looked up at her, eyes wide and open. 

“You did.” Jungeun leaned over and kissed her forehead. “And it was good we did.” She moved away.

She caught her hand then. “Stay?” Then her grip loosened. “Unless you don’t want to.” 

Jungeun dragged her bedroll over and settled down beside her. “I do.” 

Jinsoul rolled over and settled her head on Jungeun’s chest. “This doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“Hasn’t for a while.” 

She hummed once. “I—” A pause. “Thank you,” she murmured. 

From where she was, Jungeun only saw Jinsoul’s lashes move when her eyes fluttered shut. 

She listened as Jinsoul’s breathing began to even out. It threatened to turn into a snore, but Jungeun almost wanted it to. 

It meant she’d be sleeping peacefully, something Jungeun could only hope for her to have. 

Yerim came in. She met Jungeun’s eyes, a silent question there. 

“How’s Hyejoo?” Jungeun asked. 

“Better,” she replied. “She taught us a few things. Told us a bit too. About before.” She dragged her bedroll to Jungeun’s other side. 

Jungeun didn’t ask what she’d heard. Like Jinsoul, Yerim had been drained by what she’d heard. The vote from before didn’t help either, or even her magic being different now. 

“I’m so happy she’s here,” Yerim muttered, curling into her side. “Might not say it, but I think she needed it.” 

Jungeun nodded. “She’s home again. It won’t feel like it for a while, but the same people are here. Sort of.” 

Yerim’s arm went over her stomach. “Did you and Jinsoul talk?” 

“Yeah."

Purple eyes looked up at her, a bit of darkness was in her eyes, but also light. “Did it go anywhere?” 

Jungeun frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

She gave her a look. “Did you just brush over things, or were you honest with her?” 

Jungeun took her hand. “I’m getting there. I think.” 

Yerim tightened her grip on her. “Good,” she said. “Was she honest with you?” There was something else in her voice. She looked a bit hesitant. 

“She was.” Jungeun looked to Jinsoul, who was definitely sleeping now, if the soft snore was anything to go by. “I thought she’d been before, but she’d been holding back then too.” 

Yerim nodded. “Good,” she repeated. "It's good she's telling you."

“Did you know?” Jungeun asked. “I knew it was bad, but I don’t know how—I mean—what happened.” 

She looked at her for a long moment. “We thought you were gone,” she said, her voice tight. “You said you couldn’t see anything, then your path was, and Jinsoul started screaming.” 

Jungeun didn’t remember that. She remembered trying to leave the tent, telling Jinsoul to stop trying. She remembered telling her that her death wouldn’t be Jinsoul’s fault. 

“Nuala told me to keep her out of the way, to calm her down somehow.” Yerim was staring at the roof of the tent. “I tried to, but she didn’t let me. She kept summoning light, trying to get it to you, but Nuala forced her to take it back.” She looked at her then. “It would’ve just gotten destroyed if she’d have given it to you then.” She blinked a few times. “So Nuala told me to keep her away, with the earth. I trapped her legs. The waterskins had exploded and Jinsoul didn’t stop yelling at us to let her go, to let her help you. Then Nuala gave her a calming draught. It took ten minutes to settle in.” 

“You had to,” Jungeun said. “She’d already gotten hurt. You stopped it from getting worse.”

“I thought she’d hate me for what I did,” Yerim said. “She was so angry. It felt like I’d betrayed her.” She was sinking further into Jungeun’s side. 

“She’d never hate you,” she whispered. “And I can guarantee she knows why you did it. She knows you were just trying to protect her.”

"But I should've let her go to you."

"You did the right thing, Yerim," Jungeun told her. "We're both okay now, and it might've not been that way if she'd tried to help me then."

Yerim nodded weakly. "She would've taken everything, if she could have."

Jungeun's chest twisted again. There was a massive pressure, and it wasn't because of Jinsoul's head resting there. "I know." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note 
> 
> My exam is finished and now I'm finally free for a while. Clearly, I've been writing a bit in the mean time, but a lot was mostly just in the drafts. However, I'm so excited to bring this story forward, so hopefully I'll be able to have more regular updates.
> 
> This chapter took a while to get back into. Certain conversations were ones I was waiting to have, like Vivi and Jungeun, as well as Haseul and Chaewon. Even then, the one between Jinsoul and Jungeun was probably the most difficult I've had to write so far. A part of me thinks it was too long, but the other one couldn't take out any huge pieces, because it didn't work that way.
> 
> Either way, this story will be moving forward. I can't say enough how grateful I am that you've been reading this story. This world is one of my favourites to write in and sharing that has been an absolute treat.
> 
> Hope you've all been doing well! I've also finally got a twitter account, where I occasionally have snippets for my story, as well as little ideas I end up having. 
> 
> See you next chapter.


	40. Happy

Hyunjin smiled when she saw her. 

Heejin’s heart swelled at the sight of it. There was still something holding her smile back, but it was so much more than before. 

“Hungry?” Hyunjin asked. “I still have some left.” One of her eyes was that strange shade of grey, but both were still bright. 

“I can join you?” 

“Of course,” she chuckled, “you could, and you did, before.” 

Heejin picked out some pieces of meat and fried vegetables. Hyunjin had used a lot of potatoes this time. 

When she sat down, Hyunjin touched her cheek, but only for a second. “I might’ve been waiting this time,” she said quietly.

That made Heejin happier than she would've thought. It was almost normal. That made her even happier. 

“There was a lot tonight,” Heejin nodded, “they want to have the seers try to track his people, follow them to the next targets.”

“And take them out,” Hyunjin finished. 

She nodded, before starting to eat. “I don’t know how successful they’ll be with that. Alluin’ll probably be having witches making a check for that.” Heejin sighed. “Or he makes it unpredictable.”

“Or he sends people who wouldn’t get overwhelmed,” she replied. “Not all of us can handle a mental fae.” 

Heejin thought of Chaewon then. She was still angry with her, but that had faded each time she saw how Chaewon flinched away when Heejin looked her way. 

And she’d helped to keep the others here. Not just Hyunjin and Yerim, but also Hyejoo. 

“They have a blood wielder,” Heejin said. Hyejoo had told them more about the camp. About the people Alluin had gathered there. She hadn’t seen all of it, but enough. 

“I know,” Hyunjin nodded, “she told us.”

“How is it?” she asked. “Using the darkness?” 

“Strange.” Hyunjin’s eyes went to the fire. The fire reflected in them as a hue of orange and yellow. “But not like when we’re around a spirit. At least not the ones that attack.” 

“So like Aeong?” The name still made her smile. The cat spirit had strayed near them after Hyejoo had healed Hyunjin. 

Hyunjin nodded. “Hye said that’s normal. So I guess it’ll just be about getting used to it.” She frowned slightly. “Some things are actually easy.” 

“Probably because it’s a lot like the light,” she suggested. 

She shrugged. “Maybe.” She hugged her knees. “It still scares me,” she whispered. “Even if it doesn’t hurt—it doesn’t even make me feel like I did before. Not even close.” 

Heejin put down her bowl. She scooted a bit closer. She reached out a hand, but held it back. 

Hyunjin glanced at it, then back to her. She smiled slightly, nodding ever so slightly. "We can do that now." 

Heejin took one of her hands, pulling it from her leg. Her skin was cool, but not freezing. “Are you scared of what you don’t know?” 

She nodded. “Yerim’s taking it well so far. At least, it looks like that,” she said. “But even if she’s used to it, I’m not sure if she’s just acting like that to avoid worrying the rest of us.” A pause. “And the other two.” 

Those two had both been keeping themselves together as best they could. Jinsoul had been pushing herself through the new obstacles, but she’d been stretching herself thin. Jungeun had taken on too much of the fighting. Both had been stepping over and back across their limits. Heejin wasn’t sure what they’d have been like if something else had happened to Yerim.

“If it’s not hurting her, then she’s probably taking it like she handled the light. Maybe better than that.” 

Hyunjin laughed slightly. “I guess I’m going through that phase now.” 

“You know,” Heejin squeezed her hand, “I have no idea about how I’d be a teacher, but I‘ll train with you. If you want.”

“That’d be good,” she said. “Might have a chance to beat me for a little while.” 

Heejin shoved her lightly. “Your magic changed, that doesn’t mean your skill did.” 

Hyunjin laughed again. “You’ll still get me a few times, I think.” She winked. 

The change struck her then. There was a lightness between them that had only come in glimpses over the years. 

It must’ve dawned on Hyunjin too, because her expression softened. She tugged on Heejin’s hand a bit. “Sit with me?” 

“I already am.” 

Grey and yellow eyes rolled. 

Heejin grinned and went closer. 

Hyunjin shifted their hands so that their fingers laced together. 

She felt a little tug at her chest then. The ache that’d persisted since the start of the night got a little stronger. 

“What I said earlier,” Hyunjin said, “about what could’ve happened tonight.” 

Heejin felt cold just thinking about it. “Not everyone wanted you gone.”

“I know.” 

She looked up. Of the many things in her eyes, Heejin recognised sadness in them. 

“Are you still leaving?” Even the words hurt to say. 

Hyunjin shook her head. “No, not now.” 

Heejin didn’t hide the relief she felt at that, even if the last two words gnawed at her. 

“We can help,” Hyunjin continued. “Hye‘s going to show us how to heal. Then there’ll be three more healers.” A short laugh. “Would’ve never expected that.” 

“Remember when Jungeun fixed my shoulder?” Heejin asked. 

A slow smile appeared. “I think she was more surprised with herself than we were.” 

Heejin sighed. “She’s stubborn enough to still think it’s not in her nature.” 

Hyunjin only nodded in response. 

Heejin felt herself frown. “What’re you thinking?” She lifted her hand to Hyunjin’s cheek, turning her head over to her. “The darkness doesn’t have a clear nature, just like the light doesn’t have that. We’ve seen both be violent, but also good.” 

“I’m not afraid of that,” Hyunjin replied. “At least I don’t think so.” 

“Then what?” Heejin didn’t take her hand away. Hyunjin didn’t push it away either. 

“I don’t know what my nature’s supposed to be,” she said. “I’ve done—I _can_ do things—see things I thought would’ve torn me apart in the past.” Hyunjin took a deep breath. “But I think all of us have.”

She didn’t reply. She didn’t know where Hyunjin was going with this. She also didn't know half of the things that had happened when Jungeun was away. 

“I saw that with Chaewon. I thought that maybe, she was being changed by it,” Hyunjin shook her head, “but now I can see the difference.”

“What difference?” Heejin couldn’t help but frown. She stopped herself from saying anything else. It wouldn’t be fair. 

“Between her magic and her guilt,” she said. “Sooyoung and Jiwoo both have that guilt too. It’s shadows for them, but it’s something stronger with Chaewon. Chaewon’s actual darkness, the one that’s like ours, I don’t think that’s what changed her.” 

“When you say actual darkness.” Heejin looked at her. 

“I mean her magic. What’s changed her,” she trailed off, “it’s what she feels. There’s so much anger, pain, and hate, but not towards anyone.” 

“You mean it’s at herself,” Heejin finished. 

Hyunjin nodded. 

Heejin didn’t say anything. She didn’t know what she could say. She’d hated Chaewon as well, but that hadn’t lasted long. She’d still gotten angry every time she’d seen her, but it hadn’t gotten more than that. She’d just stayed angry. 

“Hyejoo showed us how to take the darkness out of us, the one that hurts.” She looked at her hands, as if expecting to see shadows on them. “But I don’t think Chaewon could do it. It’s a part of her.” 

Heejin felt her heart sink. She’d seen the look in Chaewon’s eyes. You’d have to be blind not to. “And if she could, she still wouldn't. Not now.” Maybe in the beginning, when the guilt had been fresh. Except now, that guilt had festered. Heejin almost didn't want to believe it, but she knew Chaewon would settle on living with it. 

“I don’t know if learning to control the other kind would help,” Hyunjin shrugged, “if the light didn’t help her.” She frowned. “But she should try.”

“You want to teach her?” 

“Once I know how to do it myself and understand it some more.” Hyunjin nodded. “And if she’d let me.” Her frown deepened. “Is it bad that I want to help her? Even after everything?”

Heejin shook her head. “A year ago, I would’ve said yes.” 

Her gaze softened. “What changed?” 

“Hyejoo’s back,” Heejin said. “And it’s nothing like before. We’ve all changed too much to have that again.” She turned her gaze to the fire. “But I still wish we could. Chaewon was a part of that.” An annoying one at times, but that was what made it all the way it was. 

Hyunjin kissed her then. She lingered for only a second, before pulling away. 

Heejin gaped at her. “What brought that on?” She was half torn between looking to see who’d seen them and leaning back in for another. 

“Before,” Hyunjin took her hand again, "I was scared you’d let your anger change you.” 

She felt ashamed then. “It did.” 

“You still came back from it.” Her two-coloured eyes were a bit brighter now. There was still light there. 

Heejin didn’t know why that was. She didn’t know how any of it worked. 

“And I’m so happy you did,” Hyunjin said. “I didn’t know what to do before, if I should step in—tell you.” She sighed. “But I didn’t need to, not really.”

“You did and it helped," Heejin replied. “I might’ve ruined things with Viian before I even knew who she really was.”

She nodded. “But you know her.” 

Heejin felt a burst of gratitude then. Time hadn’t let them speak much, but she respected Viian. It was easy to like her. Like Yerim, there was still a fair amount she didn’t really know about her life before, but she still managed to learn enough about who she was. For right now, that was enough. 

Another thought came to mind. Something she needed to ask. 

“With the darkness,” Heejin began, “what do you think it means for you? Does it feel different? Not the magic, but do _you_ feel any different?”

Hyunjin didn’t shy away from her gaze. It was different from before. They could actually look at each other, even though anyone could walk past. Heejin hadn’t really realised how different they’d acted within the camp. She’d focused more on how Hyunjin had acted even when it had only been the two of them. 

“Still cold, but it’s,” she paused, “normal?” She smiled, a bit sheepish. “I don’t feel weak anymore, which was probably the worst part.” She looked away. “Is that a bad thing? That the cold wasn’t the worst part? That the rest wasn’t as bad as,” she trailed off. 

“As not having your magic?” Heejin finished. “No,” she squeezed her hand, “our magic is a part of us. Without it, I know I’d feel incomplete.” She tried to word her next question right. “Does it feel like a part of you now?”

Hyunjin nodded. “I didn’t really have to get used to how it felt.” Her eyes were on her hands again. “Just what it’s like to use it.” Then she bit her lip. “Do you,” she glanced up before looking away again, “does it feel different to be around me?” 

Heejin didn’t miss the way Hyunjin’s voice faltered at the end. 

“It feels better than before,” Heejin said. “But that’s not because of the magic. There’s a difference in the light, your skin’s a bit cooler, and your eyes don’t match anymore, but that’s it.” She lifted a hand to Hyunjin’s cheek, feeling relieved when she didn’t pull away. “And if you’re acting different, it’s because I can do this.” She pressed a light kiss to her forehead. When she pulled away, there was a small smile on Hyunjin’s face. “And you look like that.” 

She blinked a few times, before her face broke into a soft grin. “Look like what?” 

“Happy.” 

Surprise flickered in her eyes, but it was replaced by something close to gratitude. “I’m getting there.” She pulled her into her arms. 

Heejin felt a weight on her chest lift then. She pulled Hyunjin closer, closing her eyes. 

“I love you,” Hyunjin whispered. 

“I love you too.” 

______

Haseul woke to a pressure in her chest. She sat up, taking a breath. It came easily. 

So there wasn’t anything wrong with her lungs. 

She tried massaging it, tapping it, drinking something. Nothing helped. If she wasn’t imagining it, her chest was pulsing. 

It wasn’t the first time she’d felt it, but never like this. Before it had been a subtle tugging now and then. Now it was as if something was pushing back. 

She got dressed, cleaned her face and teeth. Vivi wasn’t there, but that wasn’t unusual. Neither was Heejin. That was unusual, but Haseul had a sneaking suspicion about where she was. Yeojin still slept soundly. It was one of the few times she’d see her fully relaxed. She knew Heejin would be too. 

She hated that it had to be when they were sleeping. Before, she’d debated sending Heejin and Yeojin to go somewhere together. She’d always thought against it, because it would’ve been an echo chamber for their anger. Haseul still wondered if that would’ve been better. What if she’d made them both finally let all their anger out? Would it have given them a sort of closure? Brought the two of them closer? 

But Hyejoo was back now. Heejin was almost completely free of her bond now. She could finally stop hiding the way she felt for Hyunjin. Hyunjin could finally let herself love Heejin again. 

And what about Yeojin? She had one of her closest friends back, but everything was so different to how it had been before. Hyejoo had changed. So had Yeojin and probably everyone else. Humans changed over the course of their lives, several times over. In one of their lifetimes, an immortal could remain almost exactly the same. 

Except the rest of them had changed so much in the last years. Too much. 

Haseul shook her head, shaking out her arms. She wanted to move. Running or swimming. Maybe even a fight. 

The effects on everyone had been both sudden and slow to see. Since Hyejoo’s banishment, anger and guilt had infected all of them. The result was a group with deep fractures. Its individual pieces were cracked as well. 

Even with Hyejoo being back, Haseul didn’t know how much better off they were. A huge part of their worries had been quelled, with the healers being alleviated of some of the dread that always came with new injuries. Heejin and Yeojin were actually starting to free themselves of some of that resentment. Even so, Haseul knew well enough that it was still there. 

And then there were the people who’d once been closest to Hyejoo. Haseul knew nothing they’d do could ever excuse what they’d done, but she couldn’t bring herself to be angry at them. Not anymore. 

She wanted to be there for Sooyoung as she’d once been, let her actually talk about what was tearing at her. Then there was Jiwoo, who’d been carrying a burden for longer than most, hardly ever revealing that she’d had it. Haseul knew the loneliness that came with a responsibility like that, but she didn’t know it to the extent that Jiwoo probably did. 

And her heart hurt whenever she thought of Chaewon, her light twisted by regret and self-hatred. 

Haseul massaged the sides of her head. Time should’ve mended some of these wounds, but it’d only succeeded in making them worse.

That was when she heard the sounds of stone scraping together. Then the crackling of earth, as if someone was transporting themselves away from camp. 

Haseul followed the noise, half-surprised that she’d walked to another part of the forest than she usually did. 

The sun was setting, but at this angle, its light streamed through in lazy ribbons. And in that light, Haseul saw orange hair. The colour was richer in the sunlight. 

She wasn’t surprised to find her here. She’d seen with Jungeun and the others how difficult it was to adjust. A few times, she’d tried adjusting her own sleep cycle when on her visits to other elves and fae. She’d given up on that and just used a mixture of light and potions for staying awake. 

Haseul smiled. “Early practice?”

The sound of rock and dirt came to a halt. 

“I still can’t get used to the time,” Vivi replied. She looked surprisingly content. Like most things, it suited her. 

“How long have you been awake?” Haseul finally reached the clearing. Vivi was surrounded by boulders and pebbles. Some were being reformed to blades, others to representations of trees. She was taken aback by the level of detail. And how Vivi was able to control all of that at the same time. 

“Mid to late afternoon?” Vivi sighed. “And before you say it, that’s the latest I’ve woken up.”

Haseul had to smile. “Or earliest.”

She rolled her eyes and took up the stones again. Haseul watched as one of the pieces, almost as tall as her, turned to liquid, rolling in the air. 

“Why‘re you awake?” Vivi asked, her eyes trained on the stone. 

“Couldn’t go back to sleep,” she admitted. She didn’t talk about what had woken her up. It wasn’t even there anymore. She’d cleared her head during the walk. 

The stone flowed towards the ground, it pooled there before some of it rose. It took the shape of a large bowl. Then it solidified, its sides and base perfectly smooth. The only things that had changed were the edges. 

Haseul walked over and looked. There were subtle waves and even ripples there. “Did you leave these on purpose?” 

“Actually no.” Vivi chuckled. She came closer and knelt beside the stone. “But I always liked it.” She put a hand to the rock and traced along its sides. The stone gave way to her fingertips. Markings either went away in thin lines, or became grooves. 

“So you’re an artist.” It didn’t take much work to spot the tenderness in Vivi’s eyes. Haseul liked to see it. 

Another laugh. “It’s hardly art.” She kept moving her hand, creating more intricate patterns. Some of them were nearing sigils. Would they work? “Mine goes directly to what I want and the precision work is easy.” 

“But that took practice?” Haseul asked. “I don’t ever try something more complex than a groove in the blade. It’s hard on my little mind.”

Vivi raised her eyes, the amusement in them obvious. Haseul was happy to see it. The mask was falling away. She liked what was underneath. “I spent more time on the little things when I was a child. The lighter they were, the easier I could form them.” 

She nodded and watched as Vivi finished the work. It was a layout of seemingly random patterns. Some connected, others ended bluntly. Haseul stepped back to see if there was a change. She saw a face, then an animal. It was a bird. 

“Still impressive,” Haseul said. “I know a few people who actually collect things like this. They always want us to make a sculpture for them.”

Vivi gave her a look. “And what do you say?” 

“Nothing I should repeat.” 

She smiled. “Good.” Then some of the stones around them all coalesced into a large platform with a piece that rose at the back. “Want to sit down?”

Haseul looked at it. “That’s supposed to be a chair?”

“An extended one,” Vivi chuckled, “so both of us can sit.”

She did. Vivi joined her. 

“We’re leaving tonight,” Haseul said. “Are you alright with that?” 

Immediately, Vivi nodded. “I was wondering why you hadn’t gone as soon as Yeojin said yes. Both Yerim and Hyejoo were looking our way earlier. Did she tell them?” 

She fought a sigh. “Hadn’t noticed that.” She’d known the seers would see that. She hadn’t thought of Yerim when it came to that. It was still so new to think of. Jungeun had told her only a few days ago. She’d also said that Vivi should know so she wouldn’t think all seers were like Eline and the rest. “She didn’t tell them. Yerim knows.” 

Vivi’s brow rose. 

“She’s a seer,” Haseul explained. “Don’t ask me how, when or why, but she is. She’s seen where we’re going.” She prayed that the three would see sense and not follow. 

Or maybe she had to speak to them as well? She wasn’t sure if she could look into Hyejoo’s eyes and tell her she was leaving. Hyejoo would know she was afraid. And depending on what Yerim was seeing, maybe there was a real reason to be. 

An elbow dug gently into her side. 

“Having second thoughts?” 

Haseul shook her head. “Do you think they’d follow us?” 

“You know them better than I do,” Vivi said. A short pause. “But I think they’d definitely want to.” 

“I need to tell them not to. Or at least convince Hyunjin.” 

“Would they listen to her?” 

“They do and they don’t.” Haseul fought a smile, remembering how the three had alternated who’d lead which little bout of chaos. They’d dragged in jinxed objects, from when they were young all the way to a century ago. Chaewon had either been the one trying to keep them from balding Jinsoul, or she’d been the one to encourage them to make Sooyoung bark for three days. It’d depended on their mood. 

Vivi had that thinking face again. “Things were good before, weren’t they?”

The words made Haseul’s eyes sting. She stamped the feeling out. It was homesickness, she knew that much. “They were.” 

Vivi was quiet then. Some of the rock was starting to go back into the ground. The earth behind it was left in shambles. Nothing Yerim wouldn’t be able to solve. She’d once said it was relaxing to just smooth over the earth and let grass grow. She said it as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Haseul still found it incredible when she used her magic. 

“You do intend to come back, don’t you?” Vivi asked. 

The question made her pause. “Of course I do, but there’s nothing set—” She broke off, grimacing slightly. 

“Nothing set in stone,” Vivi finished, chuckling. It sounded forced. “I know that, but you’re acting like everything’s a goodbye,” she said. “You went to the others, people you’d been furious with, and I understand why, but you did all that now. Right you left.” 

“Because we need to hope,” Haseul said. 

“And at the same time, you tell them you’re following people who follow someone who wants some of us, perhaps even all of us, to pay for what was done to him.” 

Haseul shook her head. “There’s a balance to it. I think I’ll come back, but I have to be ready for the chance that I won’t. The rest do too.” 

“I spoke to Jungeun yesterday," Vivi said. "You sound just like her."

She had to laugh then. “She would’ve gone alone.” She still was going to be alone, at some point in the near future. She didn’t tell Vivi that. 

“And she has people who wouldn’t have let her.” Vivi’s pale pink eyes held hers. “How would she have gotten out of that?” 

“She wouldn’t have,” Haseul replied. “But she’d have gotten things done fast enough that by the time Yerim and Soul caught up with her, it’d have just been to go back with her.” She shrugged. “It’s happened before.” Then she shot her a wink. “My tactic is I get a lot of things done for one little expedition.” 

“You lie about where you’re going?” 

“I lie,” she smiled, “by omitting certain stops along the way. That’s what I did there.” She waved to the camp. “It’s what I do a lot of the time.” 

Vivi frowned. “Why’re you telling me that?” 

“You want to know how I do things around here, don’t you?” Haseul raised a brow. “And you’re trying to figure out if I’m the self-sacrificing type, or if I’m self-destructive.”

“Those’re just different ways to frame the same thing.” 

“They can be,” Haseul nodded, “not always.” 

Vivi’s frown deepened. “That sort of vagueness usually comes from the fae.”

“You should spend a meal with Eline.”

“Have you?”

“Several,” Haseul laughed, “but she’s actually not too bad. Dives into your future too much, but you learn to accept it.”

Vivi raised a brow. “I’m not sure if I’d be so fond of it, but I’d say I’m used to that sort of thing.” 

“Right,” Haseul nodded, “except it’s more for you. Your past, present, and your emotions.” She grimaced. “All there.” 

She just shook her head. “You learn to get used to it, and to think certain things that keeps them out of your head.” 

“What kind of things?” Haseul couldn’t help but lean forward. “Do you cuss them out? I usually end up doing that.” 

Vivi laughed. “Either I do that, or I think up certain other things, especially if I know they’re prude.” 

She couldn’t help but smile. “So you’re not?”

“Didn’t I tell you I spent time with vampires?” Vivi asked. “And others.” 

“You didn’t mention ‘others’,” Haseul raised a brow, “and I believe you said you’d ask me about mine another time?”

She gave another laugh, lighter this time. “You’d tell me about them?”

“If you asked.” Haseul shrugged. “In that sense, my past hasn't quite been so catastrophic.” 

Vivi looked slightly confused then. 

“What,” she smiled, “were you expecting dramatic heartbreak?” 

“Something like it,” Vivi said. “I mean,” she hesitated, “you’re someone where I’d have expected you to have found—“ Her eyes fell to the ground. That wasn’t a typical thing for her. “Well, that you’d have a partner.” 

Haseul had to smile. “Funny, I’d have thought I’d be the opposite of that.” 

She frowned. “I don’t see it.” 

“You’re flattering me,” she chuckled, “I didn’t really spend enough time in the camp.” 

“Time was a problem?” Vivi asked. 

“Not for everyone,” Haseul replied. “Jungeun left camp as much as I did.” 

“Jungeun?” she repeated. 

“A while ago,” she said. “Ended on good terms.“

“Was this before Jinsoul?” Vivi looked a bit concerned. 

Haseul nodded. 

“How long?” 

“Long enough.” She laughed. “My dramatic heartbreak would’ve probably come if we’d have been freshly parted.” 

Vivi looked at her for a moment. 

“Anyone with eyes would’ve seen what those two would be,” Haseul said. “Even if Jinsoul nearly hated her.” 

“What?” She looked bewildered. 

“They,” Haseul searched for the right words, “they didn’t start all that, well, great.” She shrugged. “But they’re wonderful how. Well, they were, until—“ 

“Until things got bad. And then even worse.” Vivi sighed. “The way Jungeun talks, I would’ve thought that wasn’t so unusual.” 

“This was.” Haseul’s heart sank. “Jinsoul was always able to heal her. There was always something they could do, even if she was freezing, or had some massive sword sticking out of her.” 

“Would she appreciate you talking about it like that?”

“She would, Soul wouldn’t.” Haseul forced a small laugh, but it fell flat. “I don’t think she’s ever felt that powerless before. And it didn’t help that we were losing people before that.” 

Vivi’s gaze fell. 

Haseul tried to keep the lightheartedness in her voice. It was slipping. “The moon decided to give you the light at a great time, huh?” 

A weak smile was the response. “I wish it’d brought me here earlier,” she said. “I doubt my being here would’ve changed anything.” Stone coiled around her fingers, drifting down her hand, before wrapping around her wrist. “But I would’ve loved to have seen you all before.” 

“Before?” Haseul repeated. “We’re a lot more put together than before. I bet you would’ve hated me. I,” the words caught, “anger did none of us any favours.”

“I meant before that.” Vivi’s voice was quieter. “Before Hyejoo was banished.” She looked to the sky, which was a deeper orange. It was eerie in how she couldn’t see the stars, but still beautiful in its own right. “I wish I could’ve known how it was when you were all—” She closed her mouth. 

“What?” She reached for her hand, tapping the back of it once. “If you say something wrong, I’ll probably let you take it back.” 

Vivi just smiled, shaking her head. “It’s hard to find the right word, no matter what language I’d use.” She frowned. “I want to say you were happier, because Hyejoo was still there, but I couldn’t say if you were all,” she sighed, “happy is a difficult word for that.” 

“Then use better,” Haseul replied. “Chaewon and other two were definitely happier, but Jiwoo was still lying to the ones closest to her. Hyejoo had a home here and even though she wouldn’t have wanted it then, she didn’t have her magic. Yeojin and Heejin were free of their anger, but Heejin and Hyunjin couldn’t be what they are now.” She shrugged. “And even though the three were alright, Jungeun was still the person she is now.” 

“And you?”

Haseul didn’t know what to say. She’d been busy with something, probably negotiations for moonlight. There’d been a small insurrection among one of the witch covens too and that’d taken ten years to solve. 

There was the sound of stone scraping again. 

Haseul blinked and saw that Vivi was making something again. She glanced at her, a question there. 

“You don’t need to answer that.” 

“Everyone was alright,” Haseul said. “That’s all I wanted for us, so I was happy with that.”

Vivi looked at her, again with that thoughtful expression. “But?” 

She chuckled. “Don’t give me that look,” she looked away, “makes me feel like you’ve been here longer than you have.” 

“It’s started to feel like that.” 

Haseul wanted to think that was a good thing. A part of it was, but the rest wasn’t. It was mostly because of what Vivi had been dragged into when she’d arrived. She hadn’t seen them at their worst, but something close to it. 

And she’d still stayed. 

“Lots of my trips were like the one we’re going on, except no one knew what else I was doing,” Haseul said. “So I went on them alone. Other people manage it fine, and I still don’t know why they love it so much.” She wondered if she was saying too much, but it didn’t feel like it was. 

Vivi didn’t say anything. She was watching her with something similar to that look from before, except this seemed different. 

Haseul didn’t look at it long enough to spot the differences. She wasn’t sure if what she said next would sound pathetic or just sad. “I was lonely.”

It was quiet after that. Haseul didn’t like the silence. 

“It wasn’t that bad when I got back. It was the best when I did. We used to have a big space for our tents, a huge fire pit for eleven.” Haseul smiled at the memory. “I wish you could’ve been there to see it.” _I wish you could’ve known who they were before_. There were a few who’d changed, almost completely from the people they’d once been. 

“Jinsoul has a loud laugh,” Vivi said. 

Haseul straightened. “What?” She was right, but of all the things to say to that?

“She and Jungeun both have laughs you could hear from across the camp,” she said. “And I’ve heard Jinsoul’s only once.”

Haseul tried not to think about the pain the thought caused her. She’d only seen the aftermath, but Jinsoul had looked haunted when she’d seen her. 

“Jiwoo has a bright smile,” Vivi continued. “And almost every smile I’ve seen from her has never fully reached her eyes.” 

“Yeojin laughs loud too.” Haseul’s head felt heavy. “Have you ever heard that?” When she didn’t get an answer, she kept going. “Yerim might sometimes force it, but when it’s genuine, she’ll be the brightest presence you’ve ever seen, even without the light. Sooyoung will imitate anyone she can, for as long as she can. Jungeun screeches like a bird, mostly when she laughs, Hyunjin will make all sorts of animal noises and Heejin entertained it.” 

A hand closed around her own then. 

Haseul closed her eyes. “Hyejoo’s laugh sounded like a scream sometimes and her eyes used to shine with it.” Her eyes hadn’t stopped burning. “And even when she finally learned how to cook, Chaewon still burned the food she gave Sooyoung.” They’d all smiled. They’d all laughed. 

“That’ll come back,” Vivi said. “Not in the way you’re imagining it, because it never does, but something like it will come.” 

Haseul almost heard the underlying words there, even if Vivi didn’t mean for them to be there. 

_As long as you come back_. 

Haseul just put her other hand over Vivi’s. 

And Vivi leaned her head against hers, lightly brushing their foreheads together. 

Haseul smiled. It was a gesture common among the fae. 

Surprisingly, Vivi stayed there. Her eyes were closed. “Life among my people was good,” she said. “I enjoyed learning, being among my friends, some of my family.” A short pause. “But I can’t say I was happy.”

Haseul didn’t say anything this time. Vivi had done that for her. 

“I don’t know how it’ll be different here, or even if it’ll be as good as I’d managed to have it before,” Vivi sighed, “but the moon let me see one thing and your seers another.” A short laugh. Her eyes opened and they were both amused and distant. “I was meant to be here. For whatever reason, if the moon is sentient or not, my magic was going to change and I was going to come here.” 

It was strange to be so close. Haseul was used to closing the distance, but it didn’t feel right in this moment. Even if she wanted to, she just wanted to hear what else Vivi was willing to tell her. 

“And to be here,” Vivi’s eyes were searching hers, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing, not really, but I’m still relieved I’m here.” Her nose twitched slightly. It was oddly endearing. “Had I not been, I would’ve never known what was happening here and I would’ve barely known any of you.” 

“Things would’ve been so much different,” Haseul said then. “If you hadn’t been here, I don’t think she would’ve come here when we needed her.” She felt how Vivi’s brow furrowed. “I mean that. You were the one who found her. When Hyunjin got hurt, you were the one who could lead us to her. And when Jungeun needed her, we were already coming back with Hyejoo.”

“Do you think that was meant to happen too?”

“Maybe, but I don’t know,” Haseul admitted. “No one knew Hyejoo was going to come back, so I’d like to think it was our choices, her choices that got her to come home.” She smiled slightly. “And that includes you too.” 

Vivi returned it. 

She tightened her grip on her hand. “So I’m happy you’re here too, but not just because of that,” she said. “I just hope it’ll become something close to a home. Someday.” 

“I think it will,” Vivi replied. “Someday.” 

______

Jungeun was sleeping soundly. Jinsoul couldn’t have been more relieved. She didn’t move from where she was. She could hear Jungeun’s heart beat its steady rhythm and she could feel how her chest slowly rose and fell with her breathing. She wanted to look up and see, if only for a moment, that Jungeun’s eyes were still a bright red. She knew they were, but it didn’t stop her from wondering **.**

 _Doubting_ , she corrected. Even though Jungeun had her light, even though she was able to wield it again, there was the thought that it would all leave her again. 

Jinsoul tried to dispel those worries. Hyejoo was in the camp. She’d be able to help her again. Jinsoul had her own light to give again. 

She wrapped her arms a bit tighter around Jungeun’s waist. Yerim had already woken up and gone somewhere. Jinsoul wondered if it was because she couldn’t sleep. Guilt gnawed at her again. Other than a meal yesterday, she hadn’t spoken with Yerim enough. She hadn’t been there enough. Again. 

Jungeun muttered something. It was practically intelligible, but just the sound helped calm her. 

_I love you_ , Jinsoul wanted to say. The words had been coming to the surface more and more with each time she saw her. She’d wanted to say them before, and she wanted to say them now. 

She was almost certain that Jungeun didn’t want to hear them. 

Jungeun wasn’t dreaming. At least it wasn’t a nightmare. For that, Jinsoul was also grateful. They’d gotten less over the years. Jinsoul still remembered some of the one’s she’d seen. They almost felt like her own memories. She’d never told Jungeun just how intensely she’d seen a few of them. Jungeun would’ve never slept in the same tent as her again if she’d known. 

Then she shifted. 

Jinsoul sat up so she could move properly. 

Jungeun turned on her side, facing her. Her face was devoid of tension. Immortality aside, she looked younger. Sometimes she looked like that when she was awake, but not as often as she should have. 

That was normal. 

_It’s normal to worry, it’s normal to be afraid something’ll happen again._

Jinsoul let herself reach out then. She brushed away some of the hair that was slowly drifting across Jungeun’s face. 

The ache was there. It stretched to her throat, but even then, it was nothing compared to what she’d felt before. That ache meant that Jungeun was here. She didn’t want to think about what it would’ve felt like to not have her there at all. 

Jinsoul closed her eyes, trying to force those thoughts away. 

“You’re awake?” 

She turned to see Yerim at the tent’s entrance. 

“Dahyun’s here. She wanted to go see Hyejoo.” Her eyes drifted to Jungeun. One of them was still purple, the other black. One of Hyunjin’s had turned grey. Both of Hyejoo’s were still black. Chaewon’s had faded. “She’ll be here next.” Jinsoul wasn’t sure if Dahyun had told her that or if Yerim could see it. 

She just got up and pulled Yerim into her arms. 

“I’m sorry,” Jinsoul whispered. “For not being there enough.” She buried her face into Yerim’s hair. She smelled like the earth, coupled with the usual scents of flowers and fruit. “There’re so many things we have to talk about and I haven’t even let you say anything about one of them.” 

“It’s okay,” Yerim mumbled. “And we haven’t really had the time, or the emotional capacity for it.” 

“But with everything that’s happened.” Jinsoul pulled away, looking down at her. “How are you?” 

“Not that bad,” she laughed slightly, “but I can’t say it’s normal yet.” 

Jinsoul fixed her hair, poking her cheek once. 

“You’re not going to start babying me again, are you?” Yerim raised a brow. 

“Maybe.” Jinsoul tried not to pout, but she failed. “How’s your leg?” 

“Healed great,” she said. “I’m perfectly healthy.” 

“And the rest?” 

Yerim smiled. “I’m fine, Jinsoul.” Her brow furrowed. She didn’t even have to ask the question. 

“I’m okay,” Jinsoul replied. She glanced back, relieved when she saw that Jungeun was still asleep. “It’ll get better.” 

This time Yerim pulled her closer, arms tight around her waist. They stayed like that for a long time. 

“I love you,” Yerim said. “And you were always there, even if you were busy. If you weren’t, it’s because I didn’t want to add on to what was happening.” She jabbed her side, but the gesture was gentle. “And don’t say you would’ve always made time for me or something, because I already know that.” She leaned away enough to look at her. “So I need to tell you that I’ll do the same, for whatever it is, I need you to know that you can come to me. I don’t care if it’s because you can’t figure out some mortal invention or if you’re lovesick again. Anything.” Yerim held her gaze. “And I’m here.” 

Even if the lovesick comment wasn't something she'd wanted to hear, Jinsoul’s eyes started burning immediately.

There was a tiny laugh, before Yerim’s arms around her tightened. “I’ll never get why she thought you were intimidating.” She lifted her off the ground with the force of the hug. “You’re as scary as an otter.” 

Jinsoul just shook her head. She let the tears fall, but she pulled them off her face before they could soak into Yerim’s shoulder. “At least you didn’t call me a slug.” 

Then she pulled away, eyes on the ground. “Dahyun’ll be here in a bit.” She looked at Jungeun, gaze softening almost immediately. “She wants to see her too, I think.” 

_It may help soothe that ache._

Jinsoul knew now that those emotions had been for the emptiness. Pale blue, orange, and purple. She should’ve realised it then. Dahyun had already prepared those emotions and made them weak enough so that Jungeun wouldn’t get sick from them. She’d known even before that Jungeun needed it. 

______

Olivia couldn’t believe her eyes when she saw her. She could feel the calm heighten in the forest in the next moment. That was another thing she’d missed. 

“You’re here?” 

Dahyun only smiled. “I missed you.” Her eyes were both green and blue. “I tried to look for you.”

“I know.” Olivia had been able to sense her presence, even from further away. She’d always left. Fled might’ve been the actual word for it. “It would’ve hurt you to see it.” And Dahyun usually tried to help how she could, even if she wasn’t technically allowed to. She’d always made exceptions for the Astra, even going as far as trying to find out if Olivia’s emotions had been the reason she hadn’t been able to control the light. At one point, she’d even given Olivia a piece of calm, one that’d nearly knocked her unconscious. She’d been in a calm daze for days after. 

Dahyun looked at her now without really seeing her. She was looking at her emotions. 

Olivia had gotten into a small fight before when another fairy had tried that. She’d let her anger come to the forefront, knowing it would burn him. She didn’t let any of that anger come now. She trusted Dahyun enough for that. Most of them did. 

“But is it better?” the fairy asked. “You still feel at home here, even now.” 

“Because the people who made it home are still here,” Olivia said. 

Dahyun’s eyes saddened further. 

“Don’t say it,” she shook her head, “I don’t want to talk about them.” 

“Alright.” Dahyun sat down beside her. She wore clothes that looked like pale blue linen. They were made of calm. She’d woven them herself. “Then what?” 

Olivia frowned at her. “Aren’t you here for something?”

“Here among you,” Dahyun nodded, “here with you, I just wanted to see how you were.” 

She looked away. If she was anything, Dahyun was honest. Like many of the emotional fae, she didn’t hide her own emotions, but she also didn’t hide her thoughts much either. 

“And I have seen that now, but leaving immediately after is rude, is it not?” The corner of her lip tugged up. “Or is that another bit of elven etiquette I misunderstood?”

“That’d be general etiquette,” Olivia threw back. “Even a human would think that’s rude.” Then she looked at Dahyun’s hair. There were swathes of dark and light blue. Those were usually there. What joined them was gold and green. That was a good sign. It meant she was in the middle of following a new idea of hers. That kind of an endeavour never failed to make her happy. 

Olivia almost resented her. That died before she could even feel it. Her own life might’ve changed, but that didn’t mean the rest had to. It was good if they didn’t. 

And Dahyun deserved to have her days filled with curiosity and the glee that joined it. 

“You felt a series of things in a very short amount of time,” Dahyun said. Her eyes were a confused gold. Olivia wondered if it was some sort of joke within the magic that confusion and curiosity were almost the same exact colour. “Remember, I can barely read your face and there hasn’t really been a change in it in the last moments either.” 

Olivia laughed. “Haven’t you been working on that?” 

She raised a brow. “For what reason? I can see everything I need to.” 

“But I can read your face almost too well,” Olivia pointed at it, “it’d help when you’re trying _not_ to look into someone’s head.” 

“I know.” Dahyun’s voice was almost a whine. “But it is like learning a new language. I have other things I would like to know. Other languages as well. Subjects too. Did you know the mortals made something that can tell you how much time has passed?” Her eyes lit up. Literally, with green and bright yellow. “They fill it with sand and it falls perfectly in line with a specific amount of time.” 

Olivia tried to match the enthusiasm. “What do they use it for?” 

“I have no idea.” Dahyun’s smile grew. “But when I saw it first, I took one to see if there was a mechanism I missed.” 

“Took it,” she repeated. 

Dahyun’s cheeks turned a light pink. 

Olivia fought a smile. Dahyun was almost too expressive. If she trusted you, she was even more so, and honest to a near fault. It was something all of them loved about her. 

“Extended loan,” Dahyun said. “But when I came back, mortality had taken its course.” She grimaced, eyes turning blue again. “I thought not much time had passed.” 

That was another thing. If time blended together for them, it was sometimes a mess for the emotional fae. Olivia had no idea how it worked, but sometimes what seemed like an hour for them could turn into ten. It usually ended up bleeding together because of how deeply they looked into ‘the emotional world’. Apparently, there were layers to their reality, one of which included emotions. 

Thinking about that gave Olivia a headache, so she’d made a note never to ask about it again. Jinsoul had once made a meal last almost two hours longer because she’d wanted to try and actually understand the emotional world. It’d started a discussion. A big one. 

“But if I understood it correctly,” Dahyun looked hesitant now, “you also had some loans of that sort.” 

“I stole from them,” Olivia corrected. “And it wasn’t for research, but for a payment.” 

“And what did the theft do for them? I know it was not all money.” 

“Information and other things,” Olivia said. “To get more money, or some sort of power. I didn’t understand it.” 

“But you still helped.” Dahyun’s brow furrowed. 

She was just trying to understand, but Olivia still felt ashamed. 

“What will you do here?” Dahyun asked. “Will you fight Alluin? Or is that small sense of family going to matter?” 

Olivia grimaced. “Easy questions tonight, aren’t they?”

She shook her head. “I think they would let you keep away from the conflict, if you needed to.” 

A part of her doubted it. The rest of her knew Haseul and Heejin wouldn’t let them force her. 

“It won’t matter,” she said. “He’s let some of the worst people who follow him come here. He’d send all of them.” She thought of Yerim and Hyunjin, of Jungeun. “So I’ll stop them.” They all had anger, hatred, as well as cruelty. Olivia knew how to control some of it. She knew how to use it against them, even if it hurt to wield it. 

She just didn’t know if telling Hyunjin and Yerim how to do it was the right decision or not. They’d use it if they had to, but would it overwhelm them? Olivia didn’t know where the limits were for them. Their darkness was different to Alluin’s and her own. Could they handle more? Or less?

“Again,” Dahyun got to her feet, “another series of thoughts.” She put a hand to Olivia’s shoulder. “Anything I could help with?” 

Olivia shook her head. “Not this time.” She pushed herself to stand as well and hugged her. 

Dahyun didn’t stiffen, but her arms were awkwardly placed as she hugged her back. 

Olivia had to laugh. “You need to learn how to do this too,” she said. “How’re you going to handle Yerim when she gets to that point with you?” _How did you handle Jiwoo?_ She nearly asked that, but the words didn't come.

Dahyun raised a brow, eyes green and gold. “I have no answer to that.” A flicker of amusement then. “But that is a problem I will handle when it comes to that.” She smiled at her. “Though I actually will see her next.” 

“Yerim? Was something wrong?” 

She shook her head. “Haseul told me she is healed since that attack, but also that she has changed as well.” A deep gold appeared in her eyes. “Now I will see if that is any different to what you have.” 

“What I have?” Olivia repeated. 

Dahyun only nodded. “With your magic having so many variations within itself, there will be similarities, but certainly differences as well.” She frowned slightly. “But from what I can see, even from here, is that none of you are really like those malevolent dark spirits. Just as none of those with light seem to share much of anything with the malevolent light.” She sighed. “I have tried to find out more about those spirits, but it is difficult.” 

Olivia closed her eyes, sending out a small call through the shadows. “Wait a second.” 

Pause. “Yes?”

Olivia scoffed. “That’s too childish. Even for you.” Strictly by age, she was older than Dahyun. When it came to other things, she felt as if she were far behind. 

Then Rai was running up to them. His eyes were still their pale green. Just seeing them reminded Olivia that his eyes outshone the other person’s. They looked more alive. 

Dahyun yelped when he came up to her. “You turned him?” She stepped back, eying him with grey and yellow eyes. 

“How do you know that?” Olivia asked. 

“I can see your emotions in him,” Dahyun said. “There is a link without there being a tie.” 

Olivia gave her a look. “I don’t understand that stuff when you say it like that.” 

She chuckled quietly, still staring at the wolf. “I know you two are bound.” 

“Yerim has a connection to one, so does Hyunjin. Both were saved by theirs. And we think they lost their magic at around the same time.” 

“Did the spirits take it?”

Olivia shook her head. “Hyunjin lost hers because she took in too much darkness. Yerim lost hers because she’d used too much of her magic, and there was too much of the other light.” 

Dahyun just looked confused. “Is there a chance you would write that down?” 

Olivia fought the urge to laugh. “I could try.” 

She looked back at the spirit. Then her eyes widened. “You’re his family.” 

“What?” Olivia looked back at the wolf, who was looking between them. He almost looked confused. 

“He has his own emotions,” Dahyun said. “At least the ones that make him what he is.” She frowned. “But those, not the ones you gave him, they go to you. The same I would see among friends, or family.” 

She decided against telling her about how many times she’d cursed the wolf out before giving him a name. She also didn’t tell her that she’d thrown rocks at him. 

“Fascinating!” Dahyun laughed. “I cannot tell you what any of it means, but I will try to find it out.” 

With one final, slightly awkward, hug, Dahyun was going back to the camp. 

Olivia still felt calm. It was Dahyun’s gift whenever she was near. 

Rai sat down at her feet, looking up at her with eyes that she should’ve hated seeing. She just felt heavy looking into them. 

“So we’re friends?” Olivia knelt down on the ground in front of him. She fed him a piece of a shadow. “Somehow.” She frowned as he licked her palm. It was cold, but she felt the same calm she was used to feeling around someone else. Someone whose eyes he had. 

______

“It’s incredible,” Dahyun breathed out. Her gaze was full of awe as she looked at the darkness Yerim had given her. “When I look for what it’s made of, it is potent. Full to the brim of emotion.” Then she blinked and met their eyes. “Sorry,” she muttered. “It is only that, well, Hyejoo had the same, but this,” she trailed off, “I did not ask her to show me. That was not what we spoke about.” 

Jinsoul almost asked, but again, it wasn’t her place to know. Hyejoo would tell them if it was important. 

“And what emotion?” Yerim asked. “I felt so much calmer with it, but that’s a bright emotion.” 

Dahyun gave it back to her. It sank into Yerim’s skin, colouring it dark for a moment, before vanishing. 

“It might be better to show you.” The fairy lifted her hands. Wisps of emotions appeared in the air. Jinsoul saw dark blue and immediately felt the heaviness in her mind. When she looked to the person beside her, her eyes were on the red. “I can feel a multitude, so this is not all of it.” Dahyun pressed her hands together. All of the emotions melded together. “There’s calm, yes, but also fear and anger. I’d argue those were bright emotions, while happiness is a darker one, but so much more positive.” 

They watched as the emotions were pressed further into one another. Their colours mixed, but if Jinsoul looked closely enough, she saw that they were still separate. When they melded even further, the mass had become so similar to the darkness. 

“And there is a lot of sadness,” Dahyun said. “I saw that in Hyejoo before, but now it is more pronounced. I cannot explain it all, but many of your spirits, the ones that are not malevolent, but dark—the sadness is still a large part of them.” 

Jungeun frowned. “So all of that’s just there?” She pointed at it. “Does it feel like that?” She looked to Yerim, worry just under the surface. 

Yerim was already shaking her head. “If I concentrate, yeah, I can feel it, but it’s mostly just calm and a bit of a heaviness.” 

“Sadness,” Dahyun nodded, “it’s something you grow used to.” Then she pursed her lips, eyes shining gold. Curiosity. “I wonder why it’s so similar.” 

Calm and sadness. Light and dark blue. They were Dahyun’s core emotions. Sadness had come later. 

Jinsoul’s eyes widened when she realised. “How?” 

Dahyun looked up, yellow surprise joining the gold. “What do you mean?” 

“You said our light has a lot of calm, right?” Jinsoul summoned a piece. “And then the darkness has sadness.” She held it up beside the emotions Dahyun had summoned. “So they’re linked. They must be, and they’re also linked in you.” 

“Chaewon as well.” A flicker of dark blue appeared, before it faded. “I admit, I thought it was simply a coincidence when it came to the colours.” Then the gold was back. “But I wouldn’t know what it is supposed to mean.” 

Jinsoul fought a sigh. “Then we probably won’t either.” Then she straightened. “But is that why you’re here?” 

The change was immediate. Dahyun’s eyes turned a dark blue, before silver soon joined it. Worry. 

Dahyun sighed, shaking her head. “Someone I know is with Alluin. Someone I don't think Hyejoo would have seen." 

“Someone you know,” Jungeun frowned, “another fairy?" She looked to Jinsoul. 

She realised then that Jungeun hadn't heard about who else was in Alluin's group. 

Dahyun nodded. “Etera.”

Jinsoul watched as Jungeun’s eyes widened. She looked scared.

Dahyun shook her head again. “She’ll have had no part in the violence. She’s one of the people who just wanted a place.” 

“Who’s Etera?” Jinsoul asked. She’d barely had much to do with the emotional fae. Dahyun was the first she’d actually talked to beyond a simple greeting when she’d been called into help once. 

“She left my people,” Dahyun replied. “When she fell in love with an elf.” 

“I thought you—“ Jinsoul cut herself off then. She wouldn’t dangle rumours in Dahyun’s face, not if she didn’t know if they were true or not. 

Then the fairy smiled, but it looked sad. “We don’t have it, not really.” Her gaze flickered. “And some have even used it, let it go completely.” 

“And she didn’t?” 

Dahyun shook her head. “There were more reasons why she left, not only that. And now she’s there, and she would be the last person to come here to hurt any of you.” She met both their eyes. “You must believe me.” 

“When did you find out she was there?” Jungeun asked. She didn’t look as scared as before, but it still wasn’t all gone. 

To face an emotional fae, it was dangerous. Jungeun was one of the obvious targets too. Hyejoo and Chaewon would be as well if they were there. If this Etera was dangerous. 

“Only recently. She’d been among the mountain elves for the longest time, but now she and her companion, they went to him.”

“Is there anyone else you know of there?" Jungeun asked, her voice a bit shaky.

Jinsoul inched a bit closer to Jungeun. She didn’t take her hand, but she made sure to brush her shoulder. If only to be a small reassurance. 

She caught Yerim’s eye, only to see the worry there. 

“There’s one other.” Dahyun nodded. “He’d left after—“ Her eyes turned a deep blue then. “After his son died.” 

Jinsoul felt Jungeun stiffen. “You mean the one they killed.” 

The shame on Dahyun’s face couldn’t be mistaken. Then she met Jinsoul’s eyes, as well s Yerim’s. “It was a boy who’d been born with grief.” She looked away. “A part of the decision was because he would’ve suffered all his life. The other was because we were afraid he’d be like Tresteu.”

The emotional fae who’d attacked the Astra before. The one whose emotion had been anger. 

Jinsoul didn’t see the change, but she felt it. It was like a hole had opened in her chest. The ache there wasn’t the one she’d grown used to, but another kind. And she knew full well that it wasn’t from herself. 

“We’ll never know if we were right or wrong. We asked all those who could see the future to look, and all they saw was that grief. Some saw him bring it to others, others saw that he only felt it.” Dahyun sank further into herself. “Don’t tell Hyejoo of this story,” she whispered. Her eyes were a combination of several emotions Jinsoul didn’t recognise. She saw traces of black and blue most of all. Did she still grieve this boy? A boy who hadn’t even had the chance to try and be different? 

“How old were you even when it happened?” Yerim asked. 

“I hadn’t been born.” Dahyun still didn’t look at them. 

“Then you didn’t have a part in it.” Jungeun’s voice had softened, even if Jinsoul could still feel that strange pain coming from her. 

“I might also bring something terrible upon my people,” she replied. “The other emotion only came later to me.” She pointed at the dark blue in her hair. “With how your people say fate works, that still frightens me.” 

Jungeun shook her head. “Don’t forget the good it brings. You helped Yerim with that same emotion. You,” she hesitated, “helped me with it too.” 

Jinsoul tried to ignore the surprise she felt then. 

Dahyun didn’t. She met her eyes once. 

“You’d never purposefully bring anything like that to anyone,” Jungeun said. “I don’t need to see the future to know that.” She smiled. It wasn’t the grin Jinsoul tended to see, but rather one she’d seen a lot in the beginning. It was reassuring, but also joined by an unwavering certainty. 

Jinsoul saw that Yerim wanted to say something, her eyes brimming with sympathy. She didn’t. 

Her being a seer was still a secret. Dahyun could be trusted, but they could still be overheard. 

When Dahyun’s eyes lifted to meet theirs, Jinsoul’s heart sank. She recognised that expression. She’d seen it in a few people now. She’d seen it in Chaewon too. 

The fairy nodded once. “Thank you.” She got to her feet, eyes catching on something then. Yellow started to dominate her irises. Then gold. 

“What?” Jungeun raised a brow. “A new theory?” 

Jinsoul nearly smiled at how Jungeun had come to know Dahyun well enough to pick up on those things. Dahyun didn’t usually hide what she was feeling, nor did she really hide her expressions either, but a lot of the time, her mind tended to jump from one speculation to the next, usually something neither of them understood. 

“An old one,” Dahyun replied. She looked between them. “It was one of Etera’s actually.” Her brow furrowed. “It really is the strangest thing,” she muttered. “It’s almost as if you are tied together.” 

Jinsoul frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“There’s so much purple and green between you,” she replied. “You know what those emotions are, or?” Her eyes flicked to Yerim in the next moment, confusion flashing in them. “I have talked about them enough, or were you not there for the lessons?” 

Jinsoul didn’t look Jungeun’s way. 

“I’ve only ever seen that sort of thing a few times. Between Heejin and Hyunjin, Jiwoo and Sooyoung,” Dahyun trailed off. Then she shook her head. “Speaking of, I need to go see Chaewon.” She gave them both a warm smile. “I hope you’ll both feel alright soon and,” she sighed, “you don’t have to bring Etera back to us. Only ensure she and her partner are safe. I told Haseul as much, but—” Her gaze went to Jungeun. "I needed you to know that." 

Jinsoul knew Dahyun didn't mean to, but it was another nod at how Jungeun did this sort of thing. It was a plea for her to have mercy. 

“And the other one?” Jungeun asked. There hadn't been a change in her expression. 

Dahyun stiffened. “If you can, please let him live.” Her eyes were fully blue now. “He is only grieving, but what happened to Alluin,” she shook her head, “it was too similar. He will not change.” 

______

“I just don’t understand,” Sooyoung put her head in her hands, “we’re practically at _war_. We need to be focusing on finding where they could be next, not the spirits. We’re just exposing ourselves that way.” 

She’d just come back from one of the meetings. The exhaustion had been clear even from far away. The extensive disagreements hadn’t helped much either. It’d been going on for the last three days. 

Jiwoo handed her a plate of food. “Eline’s telling us to try mapping out safe routes,” she said. “I don’t know how useful that’ll end up being, but it’ll be better than nothing.” 

“She dragged you into that?” Sooyoung looked up. Dread filled her eyes. “Does that mean—” 

“They wanted to,” Jiwoo replied, “but I’m still going to be leaving camp. Like normal.”

She relaxed.

Jiwoo was surprised she’d have been afraid of that. A part of her had thought Sooyoung would’ve been hoping for that. 

“I’ll be more useful out there,” she said. “Learning to look out for things out there, you see the immediate changes faster. Yerim’s got that too and Kolina’s been learning it since the spirits started changing.” 

“All the seers should have that,” Sooyoung replied. She started eating, relaxing further against the trunk she was leaning on. “Thanks.” She nodded at the food. “You didn’t have to heat it up again.” 

“I didn’t.” She didn't tell her that she'd known when Sooyoung would come. 

Sooyoung frowned. “That whole thing went on longer than we thought it would.”

“I knew that.” They were still learning to talk about the sight naturally. Sooyoung’s voice didn’t get an edge to it when it came up, not even now. 

Sooyoung’s expression softened. “So you had good timing with this?” She nodded at her plate. 

“Maybe.”

When the two of them fell silent, Jiwoo turned her attention to the paths. Sooyoung would be staying here for a while, as would she. Chaewon was somewhere else. Dahyun would join her soon. After that she'd go back to the tent. The past days had drained her. She also had less light than normal, but it was building up again. 

Jiwoo could see that her path was going to cross with Hyejoo’s again. That had kept fluctuating in the past few days, as if one of them was torn between seeing the other and not. It sometimes made her nervous, because she didn’t know what it would mean for either of them. 

“Where are you?” Sooyoung’s brow had risen slightly. Jiwoo could almost feel the hesitance in her. 

No, she could actually feel it, courtesy of the bond. 

“Haseul’s still going to go,” Jiwoo said. “I keep hoping she’ll change her mind.” 

“Me too.” Sooyoung nodded. “Have you seen a change with Heejin yet?”

She tried to ignore how the words cut at her. She'd seen it. Of course she had. 

Sooyoung sat up then, eyes wide. “Wait, I didn't—”

“It’s fainter,” she said. “I don’t think it was ever as bright as some of the rest I saw, but this made it even more obvious. Probably something that happens when—” She almost wished she hadn’t answered in the first place. She forced herself to finish that sentence. “When both reject it.” She kept her attention on her food. 

Sooyoung didn’t reply. Whatever little bit of peace they’d managed to get was gone. At least it was for Jiwoo. 

She didn’t look for the paths. She didn’t want to know if Sooyoung was going to walk away now or not. She’d just wait. 

“What about ours?” 

Jiwoo made herself look up. 

Sooyoung was looking back at her. She didn’t look cold, but her expression also wasn’t encouraging or warm. 

Jiwoo forced herself to find a response, because she had compared it. She’d tried to find a change in their bond for years. “It’s still brighter,” she said. “But a part of that’s just because we’re sitting like this.” She gestured between them. 

“But even if we weren’t, would it still be brighter?” Sooyoung sounded careful. 

It felt like she was about to tell Sooyoung everything she didn’t want to hear. It wasn’t anything Jiwoo wanted to say. 

So she just nodded. The path had barely faded. 

“Is that bad?” 

“Bright means it’s still there and it’s not getting any weaker,” Jiwoo replied. She forced her voice to soften. “So that all depends on what you want.” She looked back at her food. It was cold. She made the bowl float above the fire to warm it again. 

“I don’t want to lose the bond.”

The bowl fell into the flames, the rest of the food starting to burn in the next moment. 

Again, Jiwoo looked at Sooyoung, trying to see if there was something else. She looked for a sign that this was false, that it was some sort of vision or fanciful dream. She found nothing. 

“You never asked me what I thought about it,” Sooyoung said quietly. “You never considered that I’d want that bond.” 

Jiwoo shook her head. “You hated how the bond was forced upon Heejin, tearing her away from the person she loved. You said it took away our freedom.” She stared at the food that was slowly crumbling in the fire. “You were so happy when you heard that the future was fluid,” she said. “So I thought it was obvious that you wouldn’t want this.” 

“I meant having a bond with anyone,” Sooyoung replied. “A bond where I’d be expected to love the person on the other side of it—where I’d be insulting the moon if I didn’t.”

Jiwoo almost laughed. “You wouldn’t have gone along with it anyway.”

Sooyoung nodded. “You’re right.” 

She felt a pang of hurt. Maybe the bond would’ve already been gone by now had she just told her sooner. 

“Why didn’t you want it?” 

Jiwoo frowned. “I already told you.” 

“Tell me again then,” Sooyoung said. “I was angry before. You were too. We didn’t get to say everything.” Her voice had softened. 

Jiwoo felt a familiar pain just hearing it. It had gotten worse over the years, but it’d started as a pressure. She wasn’t sure what the reason was for it getting stronger. It should’ve gotten weaker. 

The reminder encouraged her to be honest. “Everything that comes with it, feeling better, safe—we were always so close, but how can we be sure it wasn’t a result of the bond? It might’ve just been the bond acting, but nothing I did, or that you truly felt.”

She risked a glance her way. Somehow, Sooyoung looked wounded at that. 

Jiwoo could only stare. Sooyoung’s expression was completely open, showing both her happiness and a little bit of doubt. She was honest in even that. 

It scared her. 

Jiwoo had always lied. There’d been too many times where she’d looked at the people she loved and avoided telling them the truth with each word. 

And Sooyoung bared everything, from her words to her emotions. 

“Listen to me,” Sooyoung said. “Please.”

Jiwoo didn’t reply. She didn’t know what she was supposed to say. 

“I hated what happened to Heejin and Hyunjin and I never wanted something like that.” 

She nodded. They’d been thrust apart and Hyunjin hadn’t felt safe enough to try and mend that bridge. Heejin had wanted to.

Sooyoung gave her a look. “Wait.” She got up and came over to her. “What I did want,” she murmured, crouching down in front of her, “was for them to have a bond with each other.” She took her hand. “I’d always thought that would have been beautiful.” 

“But that choice was gone,” Jiwoo said. 

“You said that the future changes based on our choices,” she replied. “And Heejin had never loved Priad that way. The bond had never swayed her into looking at him like she did Hyunjin.” She looked at their hands. “And she’s turning away from it now. It had no power over her.”

Jiwoo wanted to disagree. She wasn’t sure if it was an impulse she’d grown to have over the years, or something she actually felt. 

So she didn’t say a word. 

Sooyoung met her eyes again. “Did you know they had a bond before it was announced?”

Jiwoo nodded. 

“Then why couldn’t you see that the bond hadn’t made a difference?” Her voice trembled at the end. “We all knew who Heejin actually loved and we knew the moon was wrong there.” Then she frowned. “So why do you think the bond would’ve influenced either of us?”

Jiwoo’s eyes started to burn. 

“I could’ve loved other people, just like you could have,” Sooyoung continued. “But when we both tried, I think it might’ve hurt you just as much as it did me.” 

“What do you mean?” The words were hard to say. Her throat was too tight. The pain was getting stronger. Jiwoo could see the bond, half in her vision and half out of it, almost as if it was taunting her.

“It wasn’t the bond that stopped that from happening. The bond not fading away wasn’t because the moon wanted it to happen.” Sooyoung rose a bit from where she was. “And I think you wanted to believe that it was just the moon that wanted it, so you could convince yourself that we were being forced together.” She reached for her other hand. “You didn’t even think that I stayed, because I wanted to be around you.” 

“Stayed?” Jiwoo repeated. She could only focus on Sooyoung’s words. It distracted from the pinpricks that had stretched to her fingers. 

“Even if something was drawing me to you,” Sooyoung started, “I could’ve walked away again, but I didn’t. If the bond’s a reason for anything, it’s the ache I felt when I knew you were lying to me.” Her brow twitched into a small frown. “If the moon was trying to push me to you, then you pushing me away shouldn’t have been possible.” She looked at her for a long moment. “Is anything that I’m saying making sense?” A hint of uncertainty was in her voice. Nothing she was used to with Sooyoung. 

“A little,” Jiwoo muttered. “I didn’t think you’d have so much to say about this. You never did when others brought it up.” 

She laughed softly. “Because it didn’t affect me. At least I thought it didn’t.” 

Jiwoo looked away. 

“It still hurts that I didn’t know—and I don’t just mean the bond. Your sight, having to lie to everyone else, you weren’t happy.” One hand came up to her face. “I knew you were hiding something, but I never asked. Not really.” 

“Don’t say it like that,” Jiwoo said. “You’re making it sound like you could’ve changed it. I would’ve probably still kept it a secret.” She felt ashamed admitting it. 

“Maybe.” Sooyoung’s thumb brushed across her cheek. “But I would’ve asked and annoyed you for years until you told me the truth.” 

"Maybe," she echoed. 

Sooyoung was just looking at her now. 

She couldn't hold her gaze. The pain was around her throat, pressing down on it. 

"Jiwoo." A pause. "Do you still want the bond? If I wanted it, would that change anything?" There was the uncertainty again. 

"I lied to you," Jiwoo said. "For so much of our lives, I was lying to you." 

"I know, and I told you, that'll take some time for me to forgive that." Sooyoung frowned. "But I understand why." 

The next moment stretched out for too long. Jiwoo swallowed, trying to relieve the pressure. The bond was almost blinding. 

"Are there any more lies?" Sooyoung asked. "Or was that it?" It sounded like it was meant as a joke, but there was a flicker of doubt. 

"That's it, I promise." Jiwoo didn't have the energy to lie anymore. 

"Then?" Sooyoung tilted her head up, lightly pressing on her nose with her thumb this time. "What else?" she asked. "What's another reason I shouldn't want the bond?"

She frowned at her. Was she being serious?

Slowly, a smile spread out across Sooyoung's face. Even though it was shaky, it was breathtaking. "I want to know if all you're feeling is the bond," she said. "Or if it's like how it was for me, before I knew the bond existed, and afterwards." 

Jiwoo felt the pain subside. Just enough so that she could speak. "What I felt was never a part of the bond." 

The smile faltered. "Felt?"

Jiwoo caught Sooyoung's hand before it could fall away. "I still do." 

Complete relief appeared on her face. "Yeah?" Her voice was barely a breath. 

Jiwoo nodded. 

Sooyoung immediately pulled her into an embrace, almost managing to push the both of them over. 

Jiwoo couldn't help but laugh as she steadied them. It eased the pain a bit more. 

Sooyoung pressed a kiss to her neck. It was affectionate, almost like a kiss to the cheek would have been. "I almost didn't think you would," she whispered. When she pulled away, her eyes were shining. 

"Why not?"

"You were pushing me away more after I knew the truth than before." Sooyoung's smile faltered again. "You were actually having to face what we were, and I thought you'd just turn away from it." 

Jiwoo shook her head. She was a moment away from crying. She held them back. "I wouldn't have. Ever." 

Sooyoung sat down next to her. The only contact was through their hands. "Me neither." 

Jiwoo leaned to the side, letting her head rest on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Soo. For all of it." 

"It'll be okay." An arm went around her shoulders. "We'll be okay." She wasn't just speaking about the two of them. 

Jiwoo nodded. "I hope so." 

They hadn't said the words, or done anything else that might've truly sealed the bond, but it was more than enough. Jiwoo still wondered if it was a dream. 

Sooyoung convinced her it wasn't when she asked, laughing softly and giving her the food she hadn't eaten. "Sorry for making you burn the food." 

"I hadn't really had an appetite then." Jiwoo took a bite, before giving Sooyoung one. "Do you really think we'll be okay?" 

"I have to," Sooyoung said. "You're both moping enough as it is." 

She elbowed her. 

Sooyoung chuckled, but her next words were serious again. "I know what's happening now. All we can do is try what we can. We all know a little more about what's going on. That has to mean something." 

"It does," Jiwoo said. 

She pulled her closer. "I missed you." 

Jiwoo closed her eyes. The pain had subsided to an ache now. "So did I." 

______

“You don’t look any better.” 

Gowon snorted. “Just say I look terrible.” 

Dahyun smiled. “But your humour is a bit stronger now.”

She raised a brow. “And you could’ve just said I wasn’t funny before.” 

“That,” gold entered her eyes, “that wasn’t what I meant.”

“I know, Darie,” she squeezed her arm lightly, “I was just joking.” 

“Ah,” Dahyun said, “the humour that doesn’t quite sound like a joke, but still is.” 

“There’s a word for that.” Gowon smiled. It was a little easier when Dahyun was around. Maybe it was the calm she always had around her, or the occasional moments of complete cluelessness. “What’s that?” She pointed at the bit of paper Dahyun was holding. There was an almost intelligible scrawl on it. 

“A description of what happened to Hyunjin and Yerim,” Dahyun looked at it, “I asked Hyejoo to—” She broke off, dark blue immediately appearing. “I apologise, I—”

“It’s fine,” Gowon said, forcing her next smile. “It’s not as if her name’s a taboo.”

Dahyun frowned slightly. “Even I know when you try to lie with your emotions,” she said. “And you know it does not work with me.” 

Gowon sighed. 

“Do you still feel that emptiness?” 

She forced down her frustration at the question, even if Dahyun would be able to see it. Like Jiwoo and Sooyoung, Dahyun didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of her anger. Gowon just hoped she could hold back the other things she wanted to say. “I thought we established that it’s not going to go away in a few weeks.” 

“I know,” Dahyun nodded, “but that was before she came back.”

Gowon knew it wasn’t fair, but she needed to look away. “So that’s why you’re here?” 

“I was asked to come for various reasons,” Dahyun said, “though I do think that was one of them.” 

“It doesn’t have to be,” she told her. “Thank you for still coming here, but no amount of knowing what emotions are there, or whatever else, will help.” She tried to ignore how just saying the words made her heart feel even heavier. 

“She still cares for you,” Dahyun said. “I saw those emotions. They were still there. Still vibrant.”

Gowon shook her head. “That doesn’t matter.” 

“I would think it does.”

Gowon tried not to get angry. “Her hatred beats out those other ones.” 

“That isn’t how it works,” Dahyun replied. “Those emotions all surge when you see the person for which you feel them. Whichever emotion is the most connected to your thoughts in the present will win out.” 

The way the fairy described it, with a hopeful tone and earnest expression, Gowon couldn’t bring herself to tell her to stop. 

“But you know which one would come,” she said. “So do I.” Gowon's eyes burned, but she ignored it. “Who did you have to see next?"

Dahyun looked at her, half actually seeing her, but also looking at her emotions. 

There wasn’t much else she could hide around the fairy. Even though she didn’t like it, it was comforting in its own way. 

“It hurts to talk about this,” Gowon admitted. “And I’ve been reaching my limit.” 

Dahyun’s eyes were blue. Gowon wished she could’ve just hid the colour. 

Then the fairy moved to kneel in front of her. She held out a hand. 

"You're not taking anything from me." Gowon tried to keep her voice gentle. 

"I won't." 

Gowon took her hand. She felt a slow warmth start to form in her hand. It was almost like the one she felt with the light, but it lacked the other part, the one that left her tired. 

Dahyun's eyes had turned a lighter blue. She pulled her hand away. 

In Gowon's palm lay a piece of pale blue. It was so familiar, making her think of a quiet mountainside where the only sound was the rustling wind. 

"Do you feel tired?" Dahyun asked. 

She shook her head. She felt a little bit stronger, so much more relaxed. "I can think," she chuckled, "and I don't want to kick you out of the forest anymore." 

Dahyun's smile was relieved. "It worked." 

"What did?" She looked at the piece of calm in her hand. It pulsed gently. She felt a tiny sliver of peace just looking at it. 

Then it lifted into the air and dissolved, the pale blue smoke flowing to her heart. The warmth came there too. It didn't take away any of the emptiness, but a small part of the heaviness. 

"That was mine," Dahyun said. "Calm. One part of the darkness, one part of your light." 

Gowon realised why it was so familiar. "Take it back," she took her hand, "you can't give me that. Take it before I waste it." 

She only shook her head. "You won't." She patted her hand before pulling away. "I cannot give you any more than that, but I think it is that which you're missing," she said. "Look for it. Whenever you find it, take more of it." She smiled down at her. "And when you're better, I'll come back and retrieve what I gave you. When you're better, you won't miss it." 

And then she was walking away. 

Gowon held a hand to her chest, wondering if she could pull the emotion out. It'd settled into her heart, letting it beat a bit easier. 

Dahyun hadn't tried to ease the pain this time. She'd managed to do something else. 

She'd given her a small taste of peace. 

______

Gowon was looking up at the sky. Her eyes were dim, but they still reflected the moonlight. 

Olivia was overcome with a wave of homesickness just seeing her. 

Then she looked away from the moon, her eyes widening when she saw her. 

“I just,” Olivia raised a hand, “need to talk.” 

Gowon looked away. She stared at her hands now. 

“Why could I sense that you killed Torrin?” 

“You could?” Gowon’s voice was quiet. 

“Don’t talk around this,” Olivia said. 

“You’re just asking me, because you’re hoping it’s not true,” she replied. 

Silence. 

“There was a bond,” her voice grew quieter, “but it’s not there anymore.” 

Olivia could still feel it. 

“It’s broken,” Gowon went on. “Whatever you’re feeling, it’s just what’s leftover.” 

She didn’t say it, but Olivia could almost hear what came next. 

_It’s nothing_. 

“How long have you known?” 

“Since the day I broke it,” she said, a slight harshness in her voice. 

Olivia could feel how the darkness both in and around her sharpened with it. This wasn’t the anger she was supposed to have. 

And then it eased again. Gowon's eyes softened, but they didn't reveal kindness again. She just lifted a hand to her chest, fingers tracing the fabric there. 

“What else did you want to know?” Gowon asked, once again calm. “There’s nothing any of us can hide anymore.” 

She waited for her anger to come. It never did. 

“What’s happening to you?” Olivia asked. “Did you get that darkness after it broke?” Then she remembered something else Gowon had said that day. “Did you actually manage to take some of it?” 

Gowon stood. “Didn’t you listen?” she asked. “My magic was tainted from the beginning. I could see the darkness from the beginning.” She shook her head. “I always had it.” 

She felt a weight in her chest then. Whatever the change in Gowon had been, it'd needed something to trigger it. That had been Olivia's darkness. 

And they’d had a bond. Not just what the moon had given them. 

But if they’d both had the darkness, then the moon had given them a false future, hadn’t it? 

“I just have less light now. That’s all,” Gowon said. “What else do you have to hear?” Her eyes were glassy. “Is the light coming back for you? Are you trying to think of a way Hyunjin can get it back? Because I don’t know _anything_ about that.” She grit her teeth, frustration and anger filling her gaze. The shadows flew across the ground, going straight for Gowon. 

Olivia pulled them back. She gasped when she felt the emotion in them. The anger wasn’t directed at Olivia. 

The shadows were ripped from her grasp. 

She watched as Gowon pulled them from the earth. She was looking at them, her mouth pressed in a line. "Didn't help everything did it?" she muttered, her hand drifting to her heart again. 

Then the shadows fell back down to the ground. 

Gowon turned away from her. She walked back to where she’d been sitting and leaned against it. She wasn't looking at anything. 

Olivia could only watch. “What scared you?” she asked. “When the darkness came?” _Was it me?_

Gowon turned her head. There were tears in her eyes, but they were being held back. 

“The only thing I really know,” Olivia said. “Is that you went to them, brought them back to where I was, and then voted to banish me.” 

She flinched. Seeing it didn't feel like a victory. It didn’t make her angry either. 

“I need to know why.” 

“I was scared,” Gowon said. “The darkness went into my mind and it was the type that taps into fear,” she blinked twice, “I felt it when I was near you. I felt it when I saw a dark spirit the next night. Every time I was close to it, I relived—” The words stopped. Gowon shook her head. “That’s the reason why. I didn’t think you were dangerous. I never thought you didn’t belong here.” Disgust filled her eyes. “I was just scared.” 

Olivia saw how Gowon’s fingers dug into her own arm. Darkness had seeped into her hands. 

Still, she could control it. Even if she’d gotten frustrated, or angry, the darkness had only been drawn to her. It’d never lashed out at anyone. Not like Olivia’s had in the beginning. 

Olivia remembered how she’d lost her grip on it and how it’d gone to Gowon. It’d hurt her. 

“What do you feel from it?” Olivia asked. “The bond.” 

Gowon closed her eyes. Several tears fell then. “Don’t ask me that.” 

“Why not?” Olivia nearly went over to her, but she stayed where she was. 

She was shaking her head. “Why do you have to know?” Her voice trembled. “You keep asking what’s happening, what’s changed—why do you keep asking me?” Her eyes were bright when she opened them. “Nothing I say’s going to help you. Everything that’s happening to me, you’re not feeling any of it. It’s not going to affect you.” The shadows were collecting around her again. “So just leave it.” 

Olivia took them away. 

“I’m not hiding anything from you.” Gowon sank to the ground. “I just c-can’t,” she stammered. 

“You think I don’t feel anything from this?” Olivia asked. “You think I just felt what I did earlier?” She thought back to the years. She’d never focused on it, but if she thought of it now, it was there. “I lost something that day too.” She put a hand to her chest, as if she could pull out whatever feeling lay there. 

Her eyes were locked onto her hand. 

“It’s been there for years,” Olivia said. “It’s colder than the rest and it’s always hurting.” 

“But you don’t have any of the pieces,” Gowon whispered, the words barely a breath. It sounded like she’d said it to herself. What strength she'd gathered, whatever resolve she'd had to still look into Olivia's eyes—it was gone. Was Olivia the reason for it? Again?

“Pieces?” she repeated. 

Gowon straightened. “I can see what’s left of it.”

Olivia frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“It means the bond broke on my side.” Her voice didn’t grow harsher. Her eyes were dimmer again. Tired. She leaned her head back against the tree. “I don’t know why it feels that way.” She closed her eyes again, but no tears appeared. “Dahyun saw what it was with me. She said there were holes.” She laughed. “And that replacing what was there could do the trick. Pushing whatever good things you feel, if it’s light or the better kind of darkness, that’s supposed to soothe the pain.” 

Olivia watched as Gowon’s gaze returned to the sky. 

“At least that was what she thought it was." She lifted a hand and a piece of light appeared. It was grey. "Apparently I need to relax." A small sneer appeared. It was so unlike the playful smirks she'd worn before. "But you can ask her. She'll tell you more, if you found her before she left." 

It clicked then. “So that’s it?” Olivia asked. “It’s just you who won’t tell me?” _You, Sooyoung, and Jiwoo?_

Gowon met her eyes then. “I can’t.” Her voice trembled with the last word. “You’re acting like I have the answers and I don’t. I never looked for them.” 

“Why not?”

“Because I didn't care.” Her voice grew harsher. “The bond only broke on my side. It didn’t matter to me, because I was sure you weren’t feeling it. You were gone and I knew that if anyone ever saw you again, it wouldn’t be me unless you’d try to find me, for whatever reason that was going to be.” She looked away again, shaking slightly. 

Olivia didn’t feel angry, even when those words should’ve brought the feeling back. 

“What’s that supposed to mean? What reason?” 

“Do I really have to answer that?” Gowon laughed again, but it sounded hysterical. “If I’d have seen you, if you’d have tried to find me, maybe for answers, or for revenge,” she closed her eyes, “you would’ve gotten it.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me when I first asked?” Olivia asked. “Why'd I only find out about the bond now? Why didn’t you tell me what you’d seen sooner?” 

Gowon’s eyes opened, but she wasn’t looking at her. “You didn’t come here for me. You came here to help Jungeun, to help the rest.” 

Olivia frowned. “That’s—”

"Please," she said, voice breaking. "Knowing this won't help you. It won't answer any question of yours."

"Yes it will," Olivia snapped. She regretted it when Gowon winced. "Just tell me." She tried to make her voice softer. It didn't work. "Tell me and I'll go." 

Gowon blinked. Olivia spotted tears on her cheeks. Then Gowon turned her head away from her. 

“It was the one thing I let myself want," Gowon said quietly. "I wanted to be free of facing you this way." She took a deep breath. This one didn't shake. "I didn’t want to see how much you hated me, because it would hurt more. I didn’t want to tell you what happened and I told myself it was because you wouldn't want to hear it.” She grimaced. “But the truth was that I didn’t want to hear myself admit it.”

She couldn't say anything. She didn't know what she wanted to say. 

"I was being selfish," Gowon whispered. "But that doesn't matter anymore."

Olivia wanted to ask why. She wanted to know what else there was that Gowon wasn’t saying. 

The exhaustion in her eyes stopped her. That shouldn’t have mattered, but Olivia couldn’t ignore it. 

So she turned away. 

She could feel Gowon’s eyes on her back. She could vaguely feel her confusion too. 

And then she heard her breathe the smallest of sighs. If it was because she was tired, or a sigh of relief, Olivia didn’t know. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant for this to be a mostly light-hearted (?) chapter, but then the last scene came and the chapter title suddenly seemed like a slap in the face, even to me.
> 
> Writing this story is bittersweet. There's so much that I'm happy about, specifically where some characters are going. I'm especially happy when I get to write chapters where the characters are actually starting to resolve some of the issues from before. This chapter was a mini 'culmination' of some arcs, as well as pieces of relief before Haseul, Vivi, and Yeojin leave. 
> 
> Dahyun's character is from a different story, but that's set a good amount of time after this, so there is nothing you need to know about her that isn't in this story. However, I made this magic system based on the one for emotions, tying them together in a way that made sense to me. I've thought it over way too many times, so if it was confusing, do let me know and I'll explain it better!
> 
> This is still up in the air, but I think yyxy may end up having a separate story dedicated to them. Certain parts of their arcs can't be resolved until the main plot has progressed enough. This story is almost 300k words long and I already have a hard time keeping an ending short. I want to put this idea out there to see what your thoughts about that are. I don't think the story would be long, but there'd be a bigger focus on just these characters so I can bring their stories to the end I had in mind (without stretching this to 350k or something monstrous like that). 
> 
> Let me know your thoughts about that, as well as what happened in the chapter. If you have any questions, feel free to ask! 
> 
> See you in the next chapter. 

**Author's Note:**

> New accounts for both these things, so that's where I am apart from ao3. 
> 
> @hblake44  
> https://curiouscat.me/hblake44


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